Dirty Little Secret
by Cocoa987
Summary: Ingredients: One girl from New York City armed with a switchblade and a secret. One group of Greasers. One person with the knowledge to change fate. Two lives hanging in the balance. What do you get? One hell of a wild ride.
1. The Beginning

**Hey all! First attempt at an Outsiders fic. First chapter is mostly just setup, not much of any of the characters. I promise starting in the next chapter there WILL BE GREASER BOYS! (=D)**

**Disclaimer: Really, must I? I'll do it since this is a new fandom for me. Not S.E. Hinton. Just happen to own a copy of the Outsiders. Don't even own the title. Happen to have the All-American Rejects song on my Ipod, though...**

**Dirty Little Secret**

Fact of the day: did you know if police are on your tail, they actually can't follow you into a church? It's one of those things that's a good thing to know if you're a street kid in New York. It's one of those things that can keep you out of trouble with the fuzz. Luckily, I was one of the kids who knew that little bit of trivia.

I sprinted up the stone stairs, dodging the confused onlookers, and slid into the closing door, nearly running over a couple kids who evidently had the same idea I did. The police were on the warpath, rounding up stray kids and sending them to the cooler, or to the nearest home. There was no way in hell I was going back to the cooler. I hadn't done anything this time. Well, unless you count living on the streets, drinking, smoking, and stealing whatever you could to survive. Which I don't.

The lady that always stood near the doors and welcomed people stared at us. I raised an eyebrow at her. I knew the type. She would either let us stay or attempt to shove us back outside, like a good, responsible civilian. I hoped today it would be the former.

The greeter sighed and waved us through. I shot a grin at her and pushed through the crowd, forcing my way further into the church. Once I was a safe distance from the door, I flopped down on the nearest bench and put my feet up with a sigh.

I ignored the stares from all the well-dressed churchgoers and settled further into my seat. This church had great benches. Or was it pews? Either way, they were comfy and no death glare was getting me to move.

When I couldn't take the stares anymore, I ducked my head and folded my hands. To anyone else, I would probably look like the model street-kid taking a moment to pray. Sadly, that wasn't the case.

I looked across the floor from underneath my half-closed eyelids, searching for a familiar face. From my position, all I could see was the shoes of dozens of different people. It wasn't very helpful unless you knew what you were looking for.

Finally I caught a glimpse of worn orange sneakers headed in my direction. They were worn and ragged, the worst spots patched up with the odd bit of duct tape. The duct tape, of course, was either originally orange or colored orange by what looked like sharpies. I could recognize those shoes anywhere.

The owner of the shoes sat down next to me. I unfolded my hands but didn't open my eyes all the way quite yet. "Hey Taffy." I tipped my head back until I was touching the wall and arched my back, stretching out after a more uncomfortable night.

"Hey 'Rica." Nobody called me Erica anymore. It was always either Rica or Michaels- my last name. Anything else got the speaker a punch to the nose. "You made it out?"

"What's it look like?"

"Ooh, touchy today." She elbowed me hard, and I shoved her without looking. A second later I heard a _thump _as she fell hard off the bench.

"Smooth." I told her, finally opening my eyes to see her sprawled out on the floor. Her dark brown hair splayed out around her, framing her slender face. Her eyes were a warm brown, and her skin was relatively smooth underneath all the dirt. She wore a tattered tie-dye shirt- we called her Taffy because of the bright colors and her sweet nature- and skinny jeans, the hippie theme completed by the peace necklace around her throat. At the moment said necklace had flown up to perch on her nose. She stared at it cross-eyed for a moment before hauling herself up.

"Nice hit." she told me as she pulled me off the chair and we started walking. "I haven't seen anyone else so far. Maybe we're the only ones that got lucky."

"Got any bail?" She stopped and stared at me dubiously. "Right." We kept walking.

"We can't be the only ones that got away. There weren't that many cops, were there? So it's not very likely we're the only ones left. Besides, most of them'll be out soon. Fingers is the only one who's done something real stupid lately." Taffy told me as we slipped out the back door of the church.

"Right. Anyone young enough for the homes?" I asked. Taffy shrugged.

"We all are. Probably just the kiddies, though. I'd say eight and younger?" She was probably about right. Nearly all of the people in our gang were under eighteen, the legal age for adulthood. Taffy and I were two of the oldest, both being fifteen. Any older and you were either in the cooler for worse stuff or too easygoing for your own good. That or you went crazy.

Technically, we would all be under the government's protection. But everyone knew that if you were older than ten, you were probably out of luck. Not many people wanted to adopt teenagers. They were all about the little kids. That's why if you had little brothers and sisters, you wanted to protect them, no matter what the cost. A lot of kids can't take it when their last bit of family is taken away.

Then again, you didn't have to be blood related to be family. Any kids who wanted to be part of our gang were in. If they were too little to decide, we took them in anyway. Kids needed to stick together in New York. No matter what the cost, you stuck by your family. Well, your gang was your family. Most of the time, they were all you had left.

"Rica?" Taffy said. I belatedly realized that had to be at least the third time she'd said my name. I shook myself out of my thoughts quickly.

"Taffy?" I said, mirroring her tone. She rolled her eyes.

"You headed back to 31st Street?" 31st Street was one of our rally points, in the case that something like this ever happened. I hesitated. There was something else I wanted to do first.

"Go ahead. I'm gonna check this way real quick." She stared at me, one eyebrow raised. I stared back at her, daring her to question me.

She shrugged and held up her peace necklace. "Fine." I clinked my matching necklace against hers and we split up.

As soon as Taffy was out of sight, I doubled back and snuck over to the nearest library. Reading was one of those things that weren't very popular among our crowd. Some kids had stayed in school long enough to learn how to read, some hadn't. If you got out early, someone taught you the basics, like how to recognize certain streets. For most kids, it was enough.

I slipped into the library and crept over to my usual chair. It was back in the corner, away from most of the crowd. There was just enough light to read by, and the corner was usually a bit warmer than the rest of the room. The chair itself was one of the comfiest things I'd ever sit in. Was I one of the toughest kids on the street? Was I the leader of one of the most respected gangs in the city? Did I sigh in happiness whenever I fell into that chair? You betcha.

There was a book wedged into the corner of my chair that time. The Outsiders, by S.E. Hinton. I had never heard of it. That didn't mean all that much, considering, though.

Out of habit I checked the copyright date. If it was old enough, I could probably just take it without checking it out. 1967. Last time I checked, it was only April. April 1966. This was way weird.

Oh well. It looked like a decent book. I settled into my chair and flipped open to the first page. "When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I only had two things on my mind: Paul Newman, and a ride home…" I was hooked.

The names and faces fluttered by, some eerily similar to people I actually knew. I knew that this story wasn't real, couldn't be real, but some of the _names_! The name Dallas Winston was still legendary in parts of New York. And now- according to this book- he was dead. Gone. It was kind of a slap in the face to the way half of the gangs on the street thought of Dallas.

True, it didn't take place in New York. True, Dallas was the only name I recognized, and he did have a pretty good reputation. Yet his description was too accurate to make it a coincidence.

I tucked the book into my jacket, wedging it between my side and my arm. It wasn't very subtle, but it'd do to get me out of here. Something was telling me to keep this book. I'd learned to go with my gut on these kind of things.

I was nearly out the door when a call stopped me. "Did you forget this?" I spun around and focused in on the speaker: one of those old librarian types. (Nothing against librarians- most I know are actually pretty decent) She was standing by my chair. Sitting in the exact spot I had been in thirty seconds ago was a big blue backpack. It was an awfully nice backpack. But I wasn't going to stoop to stealing some random kid's backpack. At least, not in a _library_.

"Not mine!" I called, turning on my heel and heading toward the door.

"Erica Michaels?" I froze. That was my name. That was my name, and Librarian Lady had just read my name off of that backpack. That was my name, and somehow my name was on that backpack which in most circles obviously meant that the backpack belonged to me.

"Oh, that backpack. Yeah, that's mine." I snatched the backpack from her hands before she could change her mind and start questioning me. I headed out the door, slipping my stolen book into one of the outside pockets.

Once safely outside, I darted around the corner and leaned against the wall, opening the backpack.

Whoever put the bag together knew me pretty well. In the biggest pocket I found a decent pair of jeans- just in my size, which was more than a little creepy- and a tie-dyed T-shirt. You can't imagine how good it felt to be in a different pair of clothes after God knows how long.

Behind Pocket Number 2 I found a decent amount of money, a pack of Camels (yes!) and assorted other supplies. Food, soda, that kind of thing. Enough stuff to keep me going for a little while.

The third pocket caught my interest. There was simply a notebook and a few pens. Taped to the cover of the notebook was a note with my name printed on it. _Erica Michaels__._ Nobody _ever_ called me that. Ever. Not in years. And now twice in one day. It was too freaky of a coincidence. So of course, I had to open it up and check it out.

_Erica-_

_Take the 10:37 train out of the city. There'll be three empty boxcars. Take the middle. Close the doors partway, and make sure nobody sees you. _

_Once the train leaves, you should be safe. Just make sure to keep an eye out for guards whenever it stops. There shouldn't be too many; there isn't anything too valuable on board. _

_When the train stops for the fifth time (it should be the day after tomorrow) get off. Walk around, meet the people. You should be able to figure out what to do. _

_**Don't **__show anyone this note. __**Don't **__show anyone the book. __**Don't**__ give anything away. __**Do**__ be careful. Best of luck._

The note wasn't signed. I stared at it, reading without comprehending. This guy- whoever he was- wanted me to _leave??_ In all honesty, I'd never been outside New York City. Then again, I'd always wanted to get out of this stupid street life…

I shoved everything back in the pack and trotted down towards 31st Street. I met up with Taffy a few blocks away. She had glimpsed the cops headed her way and decided to make a break for it. I stopped her and dragged her into the nearest alley.

"I'm leaving," I breathed, inches away from her ear. I clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her yelp of surprise. When I was sure she'd keep quiet, I slowly took my hand away.

Soon I felt her whispered words in my ear. "I'm coming with you."

"I have to do this alone. You need to keep the others under control."

"I don't want you to leave." In the darkness of the alley, her deep brown eyes glowed. I thought I heard a sniffle, but I couldn't be sure over the din coming from the street.

"I'll come back. Soon. I promise. I just need to get away for a while." I said, not unkindly. I put a hand on Taffy's chin and made her look at me. "I wouldn't abandon my best friend, Taff. I couldn't."

A snippet of memory flashed through my head- of someone who _had_ abandoned me. My other best friend. The one who was my partner-in-crime when I was eight and he was ten. But that was over now. Taffy was my best friend. She was my partner-in-crime. I couldn't afford to forget that.

"-do you leave?" Taffy was saying. I shrugged away the memory and returned to the present.

"Tonight. I'm hitching a ride on a train." On an impulse, I pulled Taffy into a hug. I breathed in, memorizing her smell of taffy and smoke. She hugged me for a moment, and then we broke apart. I clinked my necklace to hers, and she pulled a spare necklace from her pocket.

"Just in case," she told me, at my questioning look. She grinned at me, and I smiled back despite myself.

We left the alley and parted ways, she going towards our main hideout, I headed in the direction of the train station.

The train was there, just as the note had said. I hopped in without a backward glance. Only when the train started to move did I risk one last look of my beautiful city. The skyscrapers towered over me, but soon they sped by and I was in the suburbs. I craned my neck for one last glimpse of the Big Apple and the glistening buildings.

In a way, I wasn't really leaving the city of lights and skyscrapers. I was leaving the world on the ground level, the one where kids ruled. A world filled with hunger and sadness; yet, with friendship and hope.

The train sped around a bend, and my city was gone. I was on my own.

****

I passed the next day or so uneventfully. I read my stolen book at least twice more, smoked a few cigarettes, and watched the countryside with the interest of a girl who had always lived in a concrete jungle. The world was so _big_. Everything was so open. I was starting to get why people loved the country. And then, I got bit by five gazillion bugs and started to change my mind.

Soon, another night had passed, and the train was slowing to a stop. This was my spot. As the train slowed even more, I shoved my things back into my backpack and glanced out of the car.

Three men in uniform were walking down the length of the train. I swore quietly and hid behind the door. The chattering group passed without a backwards glance, although one tripped on a rock and nearly fell into my car.

As soon as they had passed, I sprinted out from behind the door, leaped off the train, and hit the ground running. I heard shouts behind me, but I didn't bother to look back. I raced along the train, and hopped a fence as soon as I had a decent lead. When I hit the ground again, I turned down a street and kept running, taking every confusing turn that I could.

I heard footsteps behind me and ran faster, feet slapping loudly on the paved streets. I risked a glance back and almost ran into a wall. I had run into a dead end.

I pressed my back against the wall, ready for anything, when a figure appeared out of the shadows. "Come on!" he hissed, holding out a hand. I darted towards him, and he led me through another maze of streets. I tried to memorize my path, but I wasn't very successful.

We must have come closer to where the guards were searching because I heard their voices just a few yards away. Without a pause the boy- because he looked only a year or so older than me- spun me into an alley, and we pressed our backs against the wall.

When the guards wandered away, the boy whistled in relief, pulled out a pair of cancer sticks, lit them up, and passed one to me.

As I took a drag, he said, "Nice running. Name's Tim Shepherd. Welcome to Tulsa."

**No idea when the next chapter will be up. I shouldn't even really be writing this. Need to be finishing my Twilight stuff. Oh well... Please review, and if you liked this, vote for Outsiders on my poll!**

**Question for the reviews: If you were to recast The Outsiders using actors/actresses under 25, who would you cast as Ponyboy?**


	2. The Gang

**Hello all! Sorry about the delay, been crazy busy, and high school starts in about two days! So anywhooo.... here's next chapter, there is lots of lots of Greaserness. :) Next chapter will be up as soon as I can. I'd like to have this done by November (NaNoWriMo, anyone??) so I can work on other things, but who knows??**

**Enjoy!!**

**Disclaimer: Noot Mine. Curses.**

For a second or two, I stared goggle-eyed at the boy – Tim?? Tim Shepherd? The boy from the book? It wasn't possible.

Then the adrenaline rush faded away and it was all I could do to catch my breath. The world swirled around me. Crud. I closed my eyes, leaned back against the wall, and focused on just breathing.

"You okay?" A voice asked. I held up a finger.

"Mmpfh." I said in Tim's general direction.

"But-"

"Mmmfph. Eh."

"You-"

"Would you just _shut up_ for a minute?" I asked, opening my eyes in exasperation. When I got silence, I closed my eyes again and kept my mind blank so I could just breathe. I hadn't run that much that fast in close to a week. It was a rush while it lasted, but the consequences were rough.

When I could finally breathe without doubling over, I took the offered cigarette and took a long drag.

"Thanks," I finally said. "Erica Michaels." Tim was staring at me, a weird expression on his face. I bounced on my heels and snuck a glance around the corner. No sign of trouble.

"You okay?" He asked. I shrugged and peeked around the corner again. Now that I could breathe again, I was more alert than I had been all day.

"Fine," I muttered, taking another drag. I had shifted my attention from his funny expressions to wondering how the heck I was going to find my back to the main part of town.

"You new around here?" He asked me. I blinked at him. He didn't seem like he was going to try anything stupid. I considered making a sarcastic reply but decided to go easy on him, just this once. Plus, I needed his help to get back to town.

"That obvious?" I said wryly. He nodded, and I slumped back against the wall. "Great." Tim chuckled, and I rolled my eyes.

"So 'ya wanna help me back to town?" I asked, trying my hardest to sound relatively pleasant. He shrugged.

"Sure." He told me and set off down the street. I trotted after him, attempting to keep up as I scanned the streets for any other sign of danger. Nothing.

After a long silence, I spoke up again. "So, you're Tim Shepherd."

"You heard the name before?" He asked me. I blinked. How to get out of this...

"Here or there," I said evasively. He gave me a funny look, but kept walking.

"Since you're new around here, I'll give you a couple tips. Stay away from the Socs. They'll leave you in the gutter if you aren't too careful." He stopped short and whirled around to stare at me. "You aren't a Soc, right?" I stared at him dubiously.

"Do I look like one?" He looked me up and down. My wrinkled T-shirt, torn jeans, and wild hair seemed to give him a couple hints. He kept walking. "That's what I thought."

"Yeah, yeah. You get funny people around here. It pays to be careful. That's the DX," he continued, pointing across the street. We had taken a few alleys and ended up closer to the main part of town. I glanced across the street curiously. What day was it? Would Soda or Steve be working?

"What day is today?" I asked out loud.

"Thursday." Crap. Thursdays never worked out well for me. Bad things always happened to me on Thursdays. Call it karma, call it coincidence, whatever. Whenever something bad happened, odds were it was a Thursday.

"Crud. Hate Thursdays," I muttered under my breath. I trotted to keep up with Tim, who had apparently decided to move on. He stopped a few blocks away, at what I assumed was the park.

There was the fountain. There was the sight where a kid would get murdered. Further down the street was where another boy would be shot to death, practically a suicide. I stopped short and closed my eyes. Had it already happened? Was I too late?

"Hey, look. There's Dallas." Tim said in surprise. "I thought he was still in the cooler." I opened my eyes. Dallas?

"That's Dallas Winston. Look out for him. Don't get on his bad side. He's buddies with the Curtis brothers. Darry, Soda, and Ponyboy. They hang out mostly with Two-Bit, Steve, and Johnny. That's all of them, over there." I whipped my head around to stare at the group. There they were. All seven of them.

There was Dallas Winston, in the flesh. The description in the book didn't do him justice. His white-blonde hair was wild, as though he hadn't bothered to tame it in weeks. His face was hardened by years of troubles. His eyes captivated me. They were an impossible blue. I found myself unable to look away.

Dallas heard Tim's voice, and turned his head in our direction. For a split second, our eyes locked. I stared wide-eyed at him. He narrowed his eyes and glared at me. Before I could think, or close my mouth- which had somehow fallen open- , he switched his attention to Tim.

"Right, then," I said smartly, the effect ruined by the fact that my eyes kept straying back to Dallas. "Thanks for the tips, then." I told Tim. With that, I made my escape.

Once I was safely out of sight, I sat back and focused my attention on the other six members of Dally's group. Pony had to be the one sitting on the bench, absently smoking a cigarette and watching the older boys make fools of themselves. Darry was standing by watching in annoyance as Soda, Two-Bit, and Steve cartwheeled across the grass. Johnny sat on the bench next to Pony, nursing a sore arm. They all looked- happy.

I watched for a long time. Eventually Darry, Soda, and Steve left- I assumed to get to their jobs. Pony, Johnny, and Two-Bit tossed an old football around. I didn't see Dallas again.

It was a good sight. Watching them, it was easy to forget that two of them were marked to die, probably in a matter of weeks. I tried to forget, at least for a bit. They were all happy. And why shouldn't they be? They all had each other. It was like my group back home. We had our hard times, but we were all relatively happy.

I spent the night hiding in the park. Tomorrow, I promised myself. Tomorrow I would start to see what I could do.

I met Two-Bit first. I was still at the park, now sitting by the fountain. My food supply was long gone, and I was on my last pack of cigarettes. I still had a bit of money, but I had no idea how long it'd last. So I sat staring across the street to an empty alley. I hoped that if nothing too crazy happened there, I could camp out while I figured out why I was here and what I should do next.

A rusty old pick-up rolled down the street, blocking my stake-out. I rolled my eyes. Great. I started packing up my stuff in the hopes that I would find somewhere else to sit when a familiar figure hopped out of the car.

Two-Bit Matthews stepped out of his car, closed his eyes, spun around in a circle, and wound up facing my direction. He opened his eyes, spotted me, and trotted over to my seat on the fountain.

"Hey there," he said easily, a cocky grin on his face. "What'cha doing? Lookin' for a cute boy to pick up?"

So he was the funny guy, wasn't he? I decided to play along. I hadn't had a good chat with anyone in a while, and this kid was begging for trouble.

"Yep. Same reason you're here, isn't it?" I said coolly, my fingers creeping down towards my knife.

Now, this wasn't the brightest comment to make in some parts of New York City. Hell, it probably wasn't a good idea to be mouthing off to some random Greaser in the middle of nowhere. Two-Bit blinked for a second before scowling.

"I oughta-" I cut him off before he could get any further.

"-Oughta have a cancer stick? I agree." I said easily, pulling out a pair of cigarettes. Two-Bit seemed a bit confused about this new turn of events, but who was he to give up a smoke? He took the offered cigarette, lit up, and passed the lighter to me.

We both took a drag, and I scowled. It wasn't a Camel, but it'd have to do. I swore quietly about this unlucky turn of events, only to hear Two-Bit using the same expression, word for word. A shocked laugh escaped me. Two-Bit grinned.

"Two-Bit Matthews." He said, introducing himself.

"Pleasure," I said, unable to keep a sarcastic edge out of my voice. His grin grew wider.

"And you are..." I ignored this question until I could think of a good comeback. "Come on, I'm not going to bite!" I rolled my eyes at him.

"Okay, fine. Where'd you come from, anyway? Haven't seen you round here before." I hesitated before deciding to answer. It couldn't hurt.

"New York City." Two-Bit blinked at me. I shrugged innocently. "What?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "It's just- does the name Dallas Winston ring a bell?" I smirked.

"He's a legend in some bits of New York. Rumor has it he's settled down a bit, though," I said, only a partial lie. Being killed would count as settled down, wouldn't it?

Two-Bit snorted. "Don't let him hear you say that," he advised me as he stood up. "I've gotta run. Later."

I watched him take a few steps before I managed to find my voice. "It's Michaels." He stopped and stared at me. "Erica Michaels. I'm fifteen." I bit back the urge to say 'the same as your IQ'. He stared for a second longer before he spun back around.

"Later, then, Michaels." He called. I hopped off my seat and paused.

"One more thing-" he glanced over his shoulder. "Why'd you get out of the car?" Two-Bit turned all the way around to face me, an embarrassed smile spreading across his face.

"When I get stuck sometimes, I need help deciding what to do, I close my eyes and- spin." He shrugged. "It's turned out pretty good for me." He turned around and got in his car. "I'd have to say it turned out pretty great today. Nice meeting you, Michaels." With that, he revved his engine and took off down the street.

A little while later, I went across the street to check out that alley. Sooner or later I found myself wandering the streets, and before I knew it, I was completely lost- again. I glanced over my shoulder yet again in the hopes that I'd recognize something. No luck.

"Look out!" A voice yelled. My head whipped around to see something hurtling towards me. My hands went up on instinct, and I caught the football easily. I stared down the street to see Johnny Cade dashing my way.

"Sorry 'bout that," he mumbled. I grinned despite myself. He really did remind me of a puppy. He just needed someone to care about him.

"No prob'" I told him, tossing the ball back. "Erica Michaels."

"Johnny Cade." He said, tilting his head at me, the football in his arms. "Catch?"

"Sure," I said. He tossed the ball back. "Any idea where I can get some decent food around here?"

"Dingo's pretty good, I guess. It gets kinda rough, though. No Socs around, at least." He started off talking to me, but ended up talking mostly to himself.

"Thank God. Socs are everywhere around here, aren't they? At least you know where you stand in New York," I said wryly. Johnny blinked at me.

"New York?" Why did I keep getting that reaction?

"New York," I said, throwing the ball back a bit harder than necessary. He shrugged.

"How long you here for?" He asked. I shrugged.

"No idea. Got nowhere to go, nowhere to go back to, so who knows?" I asked pointlessly. He shrugged and winced as the ball thumped into his sore arm. "You okay?"

"Fine." He said through his teeth.

"Liar."

"It's none of your business." He snarled. I dropped the ball, and closed the distance between the two of us.

"Just lemme see it." I pressed. "I won't touch it." He stared me down. I stared back. He looked down at the ground. When he looked back up, I was still staring at him. He groaned.

"Fine." Johnny rolled up his sleeve to reveal a bruised arm. "It's not broken." He informed me. I ignored him, studying his arm.

"How long's it been like this?" I asked at last.

"'Couple days." He said quietly. I nodded once, and met his eyes.

"It's your parents, isn't it." It wasn't a question. Johnny looked away.

"It's not any of your business." I rolled my eyes.

"If it's not your parents, it's the Socs. I don't care which you wanna blame it on, but don't act like I'm some girl who doesn't know any better," I snapped. Johnny stared at me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Sorry. Look, I don't put up with BS, and I don't put up with getting hit. It's obviously different here." With that, I spun on my heel and headed down the street.

It hit both of us at the same time that I had no idea where I was going. "Shit," I said under my breath. I heard Johnny's footsteps behind me. He stopped a few steps away, just out of my line of sight. I tensed, my fingers sliding towards one of my knives.

"My parents fight. A lot. Sometimes I stay, sometimes I leave," he said softly. I closed my eyes a bit my lip.

"I left. I didn't come back." I said simply. When I opened my eyes, the moment was over. "So, ya' wanna help me find somewhere where I can eat?"

I found Steve and Soda at the DX later that night. I immediately liked Sodapop. His grin was contagious, and he gave me one of his smokes when I mentioned my chat with Two-Bit.

"Two-Bit owes you a smoke,

but don't expect one from him," he told me over the lighter. I smirked, and he laughed. I could see why all the girls fell in love with him.

Steve, on the other hand, got on my nerves. I could see why Pony disliked him.

I spent few nights in the park again. The alley looked a bit too creepy for my tastes. There was too much of a risk that something freaky would happen there. So I lounged around, checking out the school, avoiding Socs, the works. One of my strolls somehow brought me to a movie theater. It was as good a place as any to take a break.

I sat on the curb and watched the people who had more money than me walk into the theater. It was a new Paul Newman movie. I hadn't seen a movie in forever. It was beyond tempting to sneak in.

When the ticket counter closed up shop, I crept into the theater and slipped into the nearest empty seat. I sat next to a boy close to my age. Something about him seemed familiar, but I couldn't place a finger on it. I chose to ignore it until later and revel in the pleasure of watching a movie in an actual movie theater.

Only when the movie was over and the lights went up did I turn my attention to the mystery of the somewhat-familiar boy. When I finally got a clear look at his face, my eyes widened. This changed things. The whole story was about to be set into motion.

For the last hour, I had been sitting next to none other than Ponyboy Curtis.

**Next chapter will be the jumping, and a meeting at the Curtis household. **

**Review, ect. ect. **

**Cocoa =D**

**P.S. Question for the reviews: If you were to recast the Outsiders, who'd you have to play Two-Bit??**


	3. The Jumping

**Yes, it's been forever. I know. I write when I can, which isn't very often. But I have the chap now! *holds out chapter and backs away slowly***

**No, seriously, hope you enjoy! I had a lot of fun writing this!**

**Disclaimer: Erica is mine. Story Title is shamelessly stolen from All-American Rejects. All recognizable quotes belong to S.E. Hinton. Or- in one case- Disney.**

Well, now what? I stared at Ponyboy for a second or two- or, more accurately, the back of Pony's head as he trotted out of the movie theater- puzzling over this new turn of events.

It would look too suspicious if I followed him out of the theater and down the streets. Partly because the stalker vibe was not something I was a fan of. I didn't like strangers following me, he didn't like people following him.

And- what would I do? There had to be four or five kids that jumped him. He got lucky that his older brothers showed up when they did. There was no way I'd be able to face off against all of them. If Pony got cut up, he wouldn't be any help. Maybe I could go find Soda and Darry, but who was I to them?

While I had been standing here deliberating over the problem, Pony had walked out of the theater and started down the street. I hesitated, and followed a block after.

I kept a careful watch for the red car as I trotted down the street. My hands slipped into my pockets, and my walk slipped into an easy lope, one I'd perfected after years on the streets. Perfectly innocent, yep. That was me.

Ponyboy spun around a corner, and I scrambled to catch up. The kid was fast, I'd give him that. When he was in sight again, I took this nice little chance to give him a once-over.

He wasn't running, although the pace could be called fast to those who weren't that athletic. You could definitely tell that his head was in the clouds. The kid was a dreamer. You almost had to admire those kids, the kids that could keep that sense of innocence when everything seemed pretty bad.

Then again, Pony had lived a pretty sheltered life, I mused as I kicked a bottlecap down the street. His parents had only died a while ago, which had to be pretty rough, but up until then he'd probably had a decent life. His brothers cared for him- even if he didn't realize it at the time.

Darry, I suddenly remembered. I hadn't met Darry yet. He was the only one I hadn't found the chance to talk to- other than Dallas and Ponyboy, of course. He seemed like a pretty good guy. I could definitely see where he was coming from.

How many times had I seen someone turn into a control freak over their younger brothers and sisters. Heck, how many times had I slipped into that role? It was definitely too many times to count. I kept my friends close, because you never knew what might happen to them if you didn't.

I returned to watching Pony walk down the street. You could definitely see the Curtis resemblance. If Soda wasn't careful, he would probably have some competition in a year or two. He had a small smile on his face, and his green eyes were focused firmly on his feet. He looked up suddenly, and tilted his head to the side.

All of a sudden I heard it too. The familiar rumble of a car engine. I instinctively picked up my pace, and from the footsteps ahead I knew Pony had done the same. We both slouched, and he hooked his thumbs in his pockets. It was a nice touch. I considered trying it, but then the car stopped and then there was no time.

Pony stopped still as four boys hopped out of the car. I rolled up my sleeves and glanced around for a broken pop bottle. Nothing. With a sigh, I flipped open one of my knives and started toward the crowd.

Pony spotted me just as the group closed around him. His green eyes widened, and then he was on the ground, tackled by one of the bigger boys.

"Hey!" I yelled, coming up behind the nearest boy. He whirled around right into my fist and staggered back. I shook out my hand as the boy rubbed his jaw and glared. A drop of blood fell onto his blue madras shirt, and I watched, morbidly fascinated.

I almost didn't notice when he tried to land a punch on me. I ducked quickly, and swung my leg around him. He toppled to the ground, and I hopped backward, dodging him by inches.

"Stop!" I snapped, glaring at him. He snarled at me and hauled himself up. I promptly punched him in the gut. He doubled over, and a hard uppercut to his jaw sent him back a foot.

"Ouch," I whispered as he fell over. All the knuckles in my fist had popped at the same time. It wasn't a most pleasant feeling.

The rest of the world caught up with me, and I whirled around to see Pony still on the ground, slugging the heck out of the person on top of him. The other two boys were kicking him hard, and I decided it might be time to help out.

I came from the boy's blind side and hit him hard in the back of the neck. He dropped like a fly. He lay there moaning for a second, and opened his eyes blearily. They focused in on me, and a sick smile spread across his face.  
"Look here, boys," he said, a sneer in his voice. I heard footsteps around me, but I couldn't move. His icy eyes held mine like a snake's. I couldn't look away. "We've got ourselves a nice little broad to-" I acted without thinking. Before I could stop myself my second-sharpest switchblade was out of its pocket and pressed against the boy's throat.

"What were you going to say?" I snarled. He answered by kicking my left ankle, hard. I went down like a rock, my blade clattering to the ground. I bit my lip hard, and my hands unconsciously cradled my ankle.

About five years ago, our gang got into a rival fight. It wasn't anything huge, just a spat over territory. I was ten, and found myself ganged up on by two or three of the bigger boys. My fighting partner was gone, left New York for good. I found myself with my back against a wall, fighting for my life. I was doing pretty well until one of them got in a lucky kick that snapped my ankle. After that it was pure luck that I managed to get out before I got killed. Ever since then my ankle has been pretty bad. It always turned at the worst moment possible. This seemed to be one of those moments.

I glared up at the boys, who had abandoned Pony to check out this new turn of events. My ankle _hurt_, but I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of knowing that. I reached for my knife, but one of the boys kicked it away.

"I thought gentlemen weren't supposed to hit ladies," I commented dryly. One of the boys kicked me in the ribs.

"Shut up," he snarled, in a voice that said it was probably in my best interests to do as he said. I promptly ignored him.

"I-" my comeback was cut off by a blur that jumped right over me and tackled one of the boys. Pony slugged the nearest kid in the nose and glanced down at me. He held out a hand and I used the opportunity to haul myself up. Once on my feet- most of my weight on my good foot- I slid into a crouch and was instantly ready for the next attack.

I felt pressure against my back and automatically knew I had a teammate again. "You alright?" I breathed quietly.

"Yeah," he whispered back as the gang closed around us once more. There were only three left, one passed out and another gone, probably back to his car. I grinned and cracked my knuckles. This was the kind of thing I lived for.

Back home, I had done this nearly every day. Fights broke out fairly often, and you had to defend your turf. I'd fought enough times surrounded by guys older and tougher than me. It was decent as long as you had your back to a wall. Having another fighter on your back? That was even better.

I slid out two knives and pressed one into his hand. He took it without thinking and flipped it open. We stood back-to-back watching the boys circle around us.

"Backup?" I said softly enough that only he would hear. I considered for a second or two, then answered my own question. "Nah."

It was a well-established routine. I would fake right and head left, attach myself to the nearest boy, and work at him until he was out. He would do the same. From there, we would regroup, back to back, and go from there. Easy strategy.

I faked right and darted left, attatching myself to the biggest boy and going to work on him. He was surprisingly easy to take out for his build. Socs here just didn't know how to fight. It was almost pathetic.

My boy was out in less than a minute. The two still left standing were taking off, dragging their fallen to the car that lay just out of sight. Ponyboy stood swaying, a cut on his forehead bleeding heavily.

It took a minute for me to absorb that my fighting partner had been, in fact, Ponyboy. In the excitement, it hadn't taken much thought to replace the minor details- the hair, the eyes, the outfit. Everything had seemed so similar- it was easy to forget that I wasn't in New York, and the kids I had just faced off against were just that- kids.

My knife fell through his shaking hands and clattered to the ground. I glared at it for a moment or two. The Soc had taken my second-best knife. It was the one I used for nearly everything important. True, it wasn't nearly as good as my favorite, but it served most purposes. The knife I had slipped into Pony's hand was one of my better knives, and now it was probably nicked up and bloody. I was pretty picky about my knives. I normally had four or five on me, including the one I mostly kept for show.

I tore a strip off my tie-dye shirt and tossed it towards Ponyboy. It landed on his shirt, and he blinked in surprise. "Huh?" He said, staring at me. I motioned towards my head, and he touched his forehead. He frowned when he saw the blood, obviously trying to remember when he had gotten cut.

"Thanks," he said at last, when most of the blood had been cleaned off. He sat down on the curb slowly, his face pale and his hands shaking. I picked up my knife, wiped it off, and stuck it back in my pocket. Once this was done, I shot a quick grin at him.

"No problem," I said easily, holding out my hand to help him up. "You would've done the same for me."

There was a full beat of silence before I realized what I had said. My smile faded, and I inwardly cursed myself for the slip of tongue. After all, who was I to him? If he saw me in a fight, would he have jumped in, or saved his own skin? Probably the latter. My words hung in the air for a neverending moment until I spoke again.

"Right. Never mind then," I said, my hand dropping back to my side. Pony's head sank slowly into his hands, and I saw his shoulders shake slightly. I bit my lip, wondering what to do next without screwing things up even more.

"You okay?" I asked, stepping back a few paces and sitting down with my back to a brick wall. This would be a pretty decent alley, if it weren't for the sort of trouble that I seemed to run into in places like this. I stretched my legs out, wincing at the pain in my ankle. It would definitely take a minute to get back up.

"Yeah. Just-just a little spooked, that's all," he said, his voice muffled by the way he was sitting. His face was buried in his hands, which were on top of his knees. I watched curiously for a second before looking away, giving the kid at least a little modesty.

"Sorry," I muttered. After a long moment, he looked up, eyes a little red but pretty steady. I tossed him my last cigarette and watched as he lit up carefully, nearly burning his fingers before it caught.

"Thanks," he said again. "Really. I didn't even hear them-" I cut him off before he could begin.

"I said no problem," I told him, waving my hand vaguely at him. "Erica Michaels."

He stared for a second, his grey-green eyes catching my own blue eyes for a moment, before they flicked away and rested on a scrap of cloth from the blue madras shirt. "Ponyboy. Ponyboy Curtis." His eyes flicked back up to mine for a second, almost daring me to comment. I shrugged.

"Cool," was all I said. Ponyboy looked at me for a moment.

"You know you've got blood all over your shirt, right?" I looked down and swore. My shirt was dirty and bloody. My jeans weren't in much of a better state.

"Great," I muttered quietly. "Where am I cut?" Pony touched his shoulder, and I put my hand on my arm. It came away tainted red. I rolled up my sleeve and checked it out. It was just a scratch, even though it was bleeding pretty good. I held my hand over it for a moment or two, and the blood stopped. Ponyboy watched the whole thing in morbid fascination. When I caught him looking, he blushed and looked away.

"You okay?" He asked coolly. I nodded just as coolly.

"Fine." I started to get up, ignoring the pain shooting through my ankle.

"Liar," Pony said, trotting over and holding out a hand. I rolled my eyes, grabbed his hand, and pulled myself up, leaning back against the wall once I was up.

"Thanks," I said gruffly. He grinned weakly.

"No problem." He glanced at his watch and swore quietly. "I gotta go." He turned and started down the street. I waited a moment, and decided I might as well head back to the park to camp out again.

I had just turned the corner when Ponyboy stopped and looked back. "You gotta place?" I stared at him for a second. "I saw you at the park the other night. You need somewhere to stay?"

That kid was too observant for his own good, I thought wryly as I considered my options. I could either blow the whole thing off and go back to the park, or go with Ponyboy. My snarling stomach decided for me.

"If you've got room..." I said reluctantly. Pony nodded and beckoned, and I quickly caught up.

Pony and I walked slowly, me limping because of my ankle, he just so I didn't fall behind. We walked in silence for a moment or two until Pony decided to get me talking.

"So where you from?" he said pleasently. I caught myself just in time, about to roll my eyes at the question I'd heard far too much lately.

"New York," I said at last. Pony's eyes widened.

"Does the name-"

"Yes, I've heard the name Dallas Winston. He was- _is _pretty well-known in the City." I said, maybe a bit harshly. Pony was quiet for a minute.

"Was?" He said at last. He had caught my slip.

"Well, he's been gone for a few years now. The younger kids sometimes start to forget." I said evenly. "He's starting to be a legend. Other kids are stepping up to be leaders."

"Dally was a leader? He had to be-what, twelve?" I blinked. This was weird, talking about the way gangs worked with someone like Pony, who lived a pretty good life compared to the one I lived. I wasn't sure if he would get it. Things were rough all over, in ways he'd probably never dreamed of.

"He knew what had to get done. He did it." I said simply. "Then he left. Then others took over."

"And you?" He asked, pressing just a bit further than he probably should have. I hesitated for a moment.

"I do what I have to." I said, surprising myself with the bitter edge in my voice. Ponyboy was silent for a few steps after that, until we reached his house.

Ponyboy opened the door and let me into a living room filled with life. Boys were sprawled out on every available surface, watching TV, talking, laughing, _living. _I recognized Two-Bit, Steve, and Johnny as the three in front of the TV. The shower was running, and there were clattering noises coming from the kitchen. Pony stopped in the doorway, a small smile on his face.

The living room went quiet as the boys noticed Ponyboy and I standing in the doorway. Johnny absent-mindedly muted the TV, and silence reigned for a minute before anything happened.

Two-Bit pushed himself off the couch and started towards the door. "Well looky here," he said, grinning. "Looks like little Ponyboy's got himself a br-" For the second or third time in the past twenty minutes I found myself moving without thinking.

My hand flew up, up over my head and caught Two-Bit on the cheek. His head whipped around, and I swore I could practically hear his neck crack. He whipped his head back towards me, a scowl already forming on his face, when I put a hand over his mouth.

"You call me a broad _one _time and you'll find yourself castrated," I hissed. Two-Bit's right eyebrow rose and he stared at me for a second or two before his eyes lit up in recognition. He took my hand away from his mouth and began to laugh.

"Michaels," he said, still chuckling. "Fancy meeting you here." Ponyboy stared at Two-Bit.

"You know her?" He said in disbelief. Two-Bit nodded, still smiling.

"Met her at the park the other day," he said, winking at me. I grinned back, then peeked around Two-Bit's solid build to wave at Johnny.

"Hey Johnny," I said. He lifted his arm in greeting, his eyes glued back to the screen. I followed his gaze. Mickey Mouse Club. Excellent.

"Mind if I watch?" I asked the general area. When no one responded, I sat down on the floor cross-legged and hit the volume. Two-Bit snorted. Ponyboy stared.

"Hey, Michaels, what'd you do to your shirt?" Two-Bit asked a moment later. I looked down at my shirt, the tie-dye tainted red in some places.

"Nothing. Got cut trying to help Pony out against some Socs," I said calmly. The entire room went silent once more. Oops.

"You got jumped?" Johnny said, his voice shooting up an octave or two. A head- Darry's- poked out of the kitchen at that.

"Who got jumped?" he asked warily. Steve pointed to Pony without looking away from the TV. Darry's eyes narrowed.

"What happened?" He said. I opened my mouth, but Pony beat me to it.

"I was walking home from the movies when a bunch of Socs found me. Erica-"  
"Rica-" I automatically corrected.

"-Rica heard and helped me out."

"How many Socs?" Darry asked. Pony shrugged.

"Four or five. Red Corvair." Darry's eyes widened.

"You two- you took on _five_ Socs unarmed? And came out ok?"

"I wasn't unarmed," I clarified. "I've got a few switches, and I lent Pony one," I took out my best switchblade and tossed it to Two-Bit. "Don't break that. You don't know what I had to do to get that." I told him before turning my attention back to Darry. "They scratched us up a bit, but we're fine," I finished.

"Don't forget your ankle," Pony reminded me. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, I turned my ankle. Happens all the time. I'm fine," I said. Darry whistled, coming all the way out of the kitchen to look me over.

"You sure you're fine?" He asked me, his eyes resting on my red-dyed shirt. I shrugged.

"It's just a scratch. I've had worse." Darry looked at me, a strange expression on his face.

"C'mere for a second." He motioned toward the kitchen, and I followed warily. Once out of sight from the living room, he leaned against the counter and studied me curiously. "You're new around here, aren't you?" I nodded. "I figured. Anyone else wouldn't have helped out Ponyboy. The kid doesn't use his head..." he drifted off, shaking his head.

"He's a good kid. He can fight if he has to," I told him softly.

"Yeah," he said absent-mindedly. Then he shook his head and spoke again. "But thanks. I don't know what would've happened to him if you didn't see him there. He doesn't pay attention sometimes, and- our parents got killed a couple years ago, and I don't-" Darry's face was getting red, and I cut him off before he had to go any further.

"It's not my business. I just saw him and helped him out. He's a bit spooked, but he'll be alright," I told him calmly. He looked at me, his cold eyes calculating.

"You've seen this stuff before, haven't you."

"Spent my whole life in New York City," I told him coolly. He nodded, then took in my clothes once more.

"You need a place to stay? Our couch is open." I hesitated for a minute before my pride got the better of me.

"I'm fine. It's not too cold out." Darry's eyes narrowed.

"I don't want you staying out in the park or something like that. Socs sometimes come over here looking for a rumble, and someone's gonna get killed hanging at the park someday." My eyes widened despite myself at this uncanny prediction. Darry noticed and took this the wrong way. "Look, you saved my kid brother. I just want to be even for that. We're short on money, but if you need a place to stay, we'll help out."

"Greasers stick together," I said sarcastically. He grinned, an easy smile that made some of the stress disappear from his face.

"Exactly." I hesitated for one second more before the offer of food and sleep got the better of me.

"Fine," I said, giving in. Darry clapped me over the shoulder. I winced as I felt my cut reopen.

"Oops," he said apologetically. "Go clean yourself off. You should fit into some of Soda's old clothes. I'll tell him to find something." I grinned, and impulsively pulled him into a hug.

"Thanks," I whispered, before walking out of the kitchen and down the hall. Soda walked out of the bathroom clad in only a towel, his bare chest still glistening wet from the shower. He froze when he saw me, then relaxed as he recognized my face.

"Erica," he said, slurring the syllables so it sounded like 'er-ca'. "Fancy seeing you here." I walked past him and stopped by the bathroom door. I glanced back and caught him staring over his shoulder back at me. I grinned at him, and he blushed and kept walking.

"What's she doing here?" I heard as I closed the bathroom door and turned on the shower.

I wasn't one for luxuries. I was perfectly fine staying in the same clothes for a week or so, getting by on a few scraps for a day or three, or forgetting the existence of technology. But when a perfectly free shower, complete with soap and warm water, no strings attached came up- well, I wasn't _stupid_.

I might have taken longer in the shower than I should have, but I couldn't help myself. When I finally turned off the water, the tiny mirror was completely fogged over. The door opened a crack and I poked my head through to see Soda, now fully dressed, standing outside the door grinning.

"Here ya' go," he said, holding out a bundle of clothes. I grabbed them with one hand and shut the door again.

"Thanks!" I yelled, as soon as the door was latched.

"No prob," Soda yelled back, his footsteps disappearing down the hallway. I threw on the clothes quickly, humming under my breath. I was still humming when I opened the door.

"The dream that you wish will come true... da dum da da dah da-" I sang under my breath, walking right into Ponyboy, who was leaning against the wall. His eyebrows were raised.

"Cinderella?" He asked dubiously. I flushed red.

"You recognize the lyrics?" I shot back. His face colored, and I knew I'd won this time.

"Two-Bit," he muttered by way of explanation. I snorted in disbelief but let it slide.

"Come on," he said. "Dinner's ready. I hope you like- well, whatever Soda made. Sorry in advance. He likes to get creative." I smirked.

"I'm not picky, and I'm starved. Lead the way," I told him. We walked down the hall and joined Darry, Soda, Dally, Two-Bit, and Johnny in the kitchen. Dally glanced at me suspiciously, but he had obviously been filled in. Evidently Steve had left. I scooped up a serving of supper- it looked something like lasagna, although Soda swore it was spaghetti- and leaned against the counter, watching the action.

"I'm walkin' over to the Nightly Double tomorrow night," Dallas said casually. "Anybody want to come and hunt up some action?" Soda shook his head, glancing at Pony.

"Steve and I are taking Sandy and Evie to the game," Soda said, tipping back his chair to glance at Pony.

"I'm working tomorrow night," Darry said from his place by the door. Pony glanced at Johnny, and spoke for both of them.

"Johnny and I'll go," he said. "Two-Bit?" The taller boy shrugged.

"Was plannin on getting boozed up, but if I don't, I'll come find y'all," he said. Pony switched his gaze to me.

"Rica?" I shrugged.

"Got nothing better to do," I said casually. Inside my heart was racing. Tomorrow was the night that everything changed. I had to be ready.

That night I sprawled out on the couch, watching the comings and goings. The others had all left, gone either home or looking for something interesting. Two-Bit had gone first, headed back home to check on his little sister- Abby, I learned. Two-Bit had showed me a picture of her from his wallet. "She's a good kid," he said proudly. "Good grades, stays out of trouble." My gaze had switched to his face, and I noticed the proud and fiercely protective gleam in his eyes.

Johnny had left at the same time as Dallas, Johnny headed back to the park, Dallas in search of a party. I had offered Johnny the couch, but he said no, he liked sleeping under the stars. Darry let him go with a smile while I huffed and asked why _I _couldn't just leave. He told me it was "because I was a girl" and "I was new around here", while Johnny "knew what he was doing". I started to argue but was cut off by such a fierce glare that I automatically shut up.

As Johnny left, I stopped him by the door. "Hey Johnny," I called from my spot on the floor. He turned to me, a question in his eyes. I touched my arm in my own silent question. He nodded and grinned, swinging it up and down.

"Bye Erica," he said, closing the door behind him and Dally.

I lay across the couch, staring through the dark, when I heard quiet footsteps. I looked up sharply and saw Ponyboy's slim form in the hall.

"Erica?" I sat up and looked at him curiously.

"You okay?" I asked. He looked down and kicked his feet.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just- thanks." I grinned.

"No prob. Thanks for letting me crash."

"No prob. Night." Ponyboy turned and walked down the hallway, disappearing into his and Soda's room. A few minutes later I heard quiet snoring from all three rooms.

I stayed awake for a long time, listening to the quietness of the house and comparing it to the chaos that was soon to come.

**Over 4,500 words. Longest chap I've ever written. Worth it?**

**If the fight scene wasn't very good- well, action isn't my strong point. **

**Next chapter will be the scene at the movie theater, and possibly a party? =D**

**Hugs for reviewers! *huggles***

**Cocoa =D**


	4. The Nightly Double

**Yeah…I'm not going to give you any crap about why I haven't updated- but here's a nice shiny chapter! **

**Thanks to all the reviewers, and thanks in advance for voting in the poll! (Hint, hint.)**

**Disclaimer: NOT MINE. The direct quotes belong to S.E. Hinton. Not me.**

**Chapter Four: The Nightly Double**

I woke up to early-morning chaos. For a split second, I had absolutely no idea where I was. I was halfway to the knife in my back pocket when I registered that I was on a couch, and my arm was killing me. I opened my eyes again, blinking away most of the sleep clouding them, and took a better look.

There were figures in the room I was in. Boy figures. This wasn't unheard of, although it was slightly different than normal. If I did end up crashing at someone's place, I normally stayed at a girlfriend's house. It wasn't often that I was desperate enough to crash at any random person's house.

"Well, look who's awake," a voice said. It was familiar, but just out of my reach at the moment. I yawned, stretched my arms straight back- which killed whatever was hurt on my arm- and caught a handful of shirt.

I yanked forward, and came face to face with Sodapop Curtis. His face was inches from mine, my hands still on his shirt. It wasn't a terrible position, the girly part of my mind reflected.

"Good morning," he said brightly. "Did you need something?" I smirked, releasing my grip on Soda and sitting up.

"Sorry," I said breezily as I took in my surroundings. "Habit." Soda grinned, smoothing his shirt and switching on the TV.

"S'all good." he mumbled.

"Soda, turn off the TV!" A voice hollered from in the kitchen- Darry, I assumed. Said Curtis strolled into the living room and snatched the remote from Soda's hand, pointing it toward the TV and clicking it off pointedly. Soda sighed, and I bit back a giggle.

"Morning, Rica," Darry said as he walked back into the kitchen. I heard pots and pans clang, and figured that it must be his day for breakfast. "You like pancakes?"

"Yeah!" I said, perking up just a bit. I hadn't had pancakes in ages. Soda shot a glance toward the kitchen, and switched the TV back on, finding a channel that wasn't just showing the news and settling back on the floor, his head resting on the couch by my legs.

Pony strolled down the hallway, dressed and looking mostly awake. He had bags around his eyes- nightmare, maybe? I couldn't remember, and I didn't really care.

"Morning, Pony," I said, climbing off the couch and stretching, wincing at the soreness all over. I hadn't had a real rumble in a while- this one didn't really count, I supposed, but that one guy had really packed a punch. My ankle twinged when I put too much weight on it, but I shrugged it off.

"Morning, Rica," Pony said, taking my place on the couch. I mentally counted off the number of people in the house- only the Curtises currently- and made a break for the bathroom before anyone else could claim it.

When I emerged, the smell of pancakes drove all comprehensive thought from my head. I followed my nose down the hallway and grinned at the stacks of pancakes on four plates in the kitchen.

"Thanks, Darry. You didn't have to-"

"It's fine, Erica." Darry said cheerfully, pouring a healthy amount of maple syrup on his pancakes before passing around the bottle. I poured an equal amount on mine happily before handing it to Soda, who just about drowned his pancakes in the stuff. Darry frowned at him but didn't say a word- I assumed it was a battle that had been fought many times before.

Pony ate quietly, and was finished first. He hopped up, grabbed his bag, and was out the door before I had the chance to get a word of good-bye in.

Darry leaned back in his chair yawning and rubbing his stomach contentedly. "I love pancakes," he muttered under his breath. Soda grinned, and made a grab for the only remaining pancake on my plate. I scowled and blocked him with my fork. Soda put his hands up in defeat, a good-natured grin on his face.

"Knock yourself out," he said cheerfully, hopping up. "Anyone know where my..." I blocked him out, as Darry was staring at me and I wasn't quite sure why.

"Can I help you?" I said as politely as I could manage. Part of me was screaming at me, reminding me that this guy had given me food, clothes, and a place to crash. The other part was still the snarky, sarcastic person that lived by her wits and didn't give a damn what anyone thought about her.

"So how long are you occupying our couch?" He asked bluntly. I blinked. I hadn't expected him to actually...care. It was oddly comforting.

"I'll be out of your hair by tomorrow, promise. I was just pretty sore after the rumble. I don't love hanging around in unfamiliar streets. I don't have a death wish, as funny as it might seem." Well, it wasn't as snarky as it could have been. The part of me that wanted to be polite wasn't all that satisfied.

Darry narrowed his eyes. He seemed to do that a lot, I noticed irrelevantly. He studied me for a second or two. "What're you going to do then?" he challenged. I scowled. He was good. Too good- why couldn't he be one of those guys that does a good deed and forgets about it? But no, he had to be all chivalrous and stuff. The part of me that wasn't annoyed out of my mind was oddly touched.

I hesitated, trying to find an answer that would satisfy him without being a total lie. "I- I'll find a job. I don't need much- just enough for food." I knew before I finished that it wouldn't be good enough for him. It would be just fine for me, but he obviously thought I needed better.

"What about school? You can't be much older than Pony, he's just fourteen and-"

"I'm fifteen," I corrected automatically. "Just because I'm small doesn't mean I'm helpless. You wouldn't know much about that, would you?" I couldn't believe I had just said that. The little part of my brain that normally kept me from making stupid comments like that must have still been in maple-syrup-heaven.

I closed my eyes, forced a smile, and opened them again. "I didn't mean that." Darry's mouth twitched, and I took that as a good sign. "Sorry- you would not _believe_ the comments I get because I'm small. Where were we?"

"School," he prompted.

"Right. I haven't been to school since I was seven. I've taught myself just fine since then." I had stuck around long enough to learn to read, and read well. Once I could do that, I was able to teach myself just about anything I needed to know. It was enough for me.

"Sixteenth president?"

"Abraham Lincoln," I said automatically before I registered Soda leaning in the doorway. I spun around and leaned on the counter, daring him to do his worst.

"Eight times nine?"

"Seventy-two."

"Alliteration is-?"

"Words that all start with the same letter. Like tongue twisters. Are you quite finished?"

Soda chuckled, glancing over my head to Darry. "She's fine, Dar. I've gotta go- see you later, Erica." He made his way out the door, slamming it with a bang and whistling "Zip-a-dee-doo-dah" under his breath. I grinned briefly before my attention went back to convincing Darry.

"So?"

"Where'll you stay? Socs are everywhere- you're not going to want to run into them at night. They're bad enough during the day." This one was easy- if I was right, I wouldn't see another Soc until tonight, and by then it wouldn't matter- I wouldn't be getting any sleep anyway.

"I'll find somewhere- and I'm a fast runner. They won't touch me," I assured him. His gaze flicked downward.

"Even with your ankle? It looks pretty bad." My eyes flicked down to my ankle- I was favoring it, I noticed for the first time all morning. It didn't look so great. I put some weight, and masked my wince bravely.

"It's just stiff. It'll loosen up over the day. It always does." Darry didn't look convinced. "Please, Darry. I've been through way worse than this and come through just fine. You seriously think I'm going to get into trouble in a place like this?" _Yes_. "It's not like I have anyone after me." _Yet- the police might be on my tail after tonight._ "I can take care of myself." _I learned that the tough way._

Darry peered at me with those hard blue eyes. The clock chimed eight, and I flinched despite myself. I met his stare as best I could- there was something about those eyes that bothered me.

"How long are you staying in Tulsa?" He said, maybe just to break the silence that was threatening to suffocate us both. I shrugged.

"Not too long. I don't have anything to go back to, in any case. Except my gang- of friends. Gang of friends. Buddies." It maybe wasn't the best idea to give Darry a clear idea of how I lived my life- he was touchy enough about me just sleeping in the park. Darry's eyes narrowed even further, and I knew he had caught my slip but decided not to comment. Instead he broke away from where our eyes were still met and started to clear away the plates.

"You can do what you want, I guess. Who am I to stop you?" he said finally. "But our couch is always open- unless Dally or Johnny or Steve or someone gets there first." I grinned at the somewhat-disguised sentiment.

"Thanks- really." I told him. "I'll clean up- what time do you have to be at work?" Darry glanced at his watch and nearly dropped his stack of plates.

"Ten minutes- thanks, E-Rica. I'll talk to you later, alright?" He didn't wait for my response, barreling down the hall, presumably to get ready. I did the dishes, humming aimlessly to myself and enjoying the quiet.

Quiet wasn't something you heard all that often in New York. There was always something happening, be it traffic or riots or just the general noise that accompanied a large city. It was nice- if kind of stifling. I decided that maybe background noise was better than no noise- everything just seemed too _still_. It was a creepy feeling.

Once everything was cleaned up, I made my way to the DX, which seemed to be one of the gang's hotspots. Soda and Steve worked there, of course, but over the day Two-Bit, Johnny, and Dally passed through, albeit at different times. Soda, Steve, and I kept up a steady conversation, talking about the strangest things sometimes. Steve actually wasn't too bad of a guy, if you knew how to handle people that could be a bit too full of themselves. Once he was taken down a few notches, he wasn't that bad. When the others passed through, they joined the conversation effortlessly, and for a few fleeting moments it was almost like I was back home with my gang during a good day, worry-free and happy.

I got to know the boys, too. It was- nice. Nice, but disorienting. These guys had it rough, but not in the way my life was rough. They had homes and more money than I was used to and all the perks that come with that. I had none of that. But they were constantly being tormented by the Socs. We only had a few rival gangs- more time was spent working on surviving than beating each other up. There were always a few groups that spent most of their energy hurting others- but they were the ones with more privileges, who did this kind of thing for fun.

But back to the boys. This Johnny was different than the one I had met in the alley. He had a smile on his face, and joined in the conversation with only a little reluctance. He seemed happy, like he knew he belonged here. It was the little things that let me see through his show- the way he flinched when the door slammed, and how he winced when Soda clapped him on the shoulder.

I shot a smile at him when he walked out the door, and he smiled back, a real smile, not one of those fake ones that people show the world when they don't think anyone actually cares.

Two-Bit - how do you describe Two-Bit? He took our conversation- which had something to do with movies- and went wild with it, comparing it to some rumble he had heard about. I had absolutely no idea where he was going- I'm not sure _he _had any idea where he was going with it- but we were all in stitches by the time it was over.

Dally- Dally was mostly business. He talked something over with Steve, bragged about something to Soda, and was gone before I even said two words to him. It was only when he was about to leave that he met my eyes.

There was something there that sparked something in me- curiosity? Fear?- whatever it was, it lasted only for the split second that he was looking at me. When he glanced away, it was gone. I almost didn't notice the scar on his arm, halfway between his elbow and his wrist. It was only when he opened the door that it caught the light. Something about it reminded me of…what? I shook my head and decided to puzzle over it later.

At one point Steve let me take a look at one of the cars he was working on when his girl stopped over. I didn't remember her name, and I didn't really care- but it was a _nice_ car. Even not knowing much about cars- it was a _nice_ car. This would probably be the closest I'd ever get to a car this nice.

I finally worked up the nerve to see if there was anything I could do for pay- there wasn't much. People weren't really willing to hire a random girl no one had ever heard of, even if she did save the Curtis brother's kid brother and take out four or five Socs. It was annoying, but understandable. I did better business back in New York, where everyone was looking for a kid to run off and do odd jobs for them.

I ended the day exactly three dollars richer than when I started. Well, it would be enough for popcorn at the movies, if I was lucky.

Soda's shift ended late, and I walked home with him. I glanced over at the park, then at the time. In only a few hours…I didn't want to think about, I decided. Not yet. Not until it's time.

Just as I was finding the will to tear my gaze away from the fountain, I stumbled forward, banging my knees on the street. My backpack slammed into my head and flipped over, spilling it's contents everywhere. There wasn't much- a few tattered clothes was mostly it. Except for- the book. It was just under a shirt, part of the cover poking out. My eyes widened- if Soda saw it, it could ruin everything.

Maybe it would be a good thing if he knew, a strange part of my mind said. He might be able to help- he knew the guys better than I did, and who was I to mess around in their lives.

Then again- whoever had given me the note had given me strict instructions not to tell anybody. I assumed that this included people involved.

This all shot through my mind as I skidded on the street, my momentum pulling me forward. I crashed to a halt and immediately began scooping my things back into the bag. I shoved the book and notebook at the bottom before Soda could get a good glimpse at the cover.

"Sorry!" I squeaked, shoving everything in and zipping the bag back up. Soda pulled me up gently.

"You okay?" He asked, brushing some gravel off my shoulder.

"Fine," I said, clapping my hands together and ignoring the sting. He smiled, not suspicious in the least, and we made it home without further incident.

We were only home for a few minutes before Johnny showed up- most of it for me was spent frantically going over every last detail of what I knew in the hopes that I could change something- anything. Strange as it was, I had already grown attached to this rag-tag group of boys and didn't really want to lose any of them.

By the time Johnny came crashing through the door, I was as ready as I'd ever be. There was no use in worrying myself sick, I told myself. It was probably just as good to go along with everything and hope for the best.

Pony, Johnny, and I trooped out to the corner where Dally was already waiting. We stopped by the drugstore and bought Cokes- which took away some of my already-scarce money. The boys blew their straw wrappers at a waitress- I was tempted to join in, but I was still working under the philosophy that it probably wasn't the smartest idea to antagonize a bunch of strangers in an unfamiliar town. If my body was found in an alley around here, no one would really care, as opposed to New York, where I had my fair share of pull around the streets.

I leaned back in my chair and attempted to pay attention to my surroundings while also trying to ignore the idiot waiter who was trying to hit on me. His breath on my ear and his fingers on my shoulder finally made my temper snap. I whirled around, nearly smacking heads with him- he was closer than I expected.

"Can I help you?" I said through my teeth, a too-cheery smile plastered on my face. I heard Johnny shifting uneasily beside me but ignored him for the moment. The waiter raised an eyebrow and leered at me. I sighed and threw my Coke in his face. He blinked at me before swearing and storming away.

I turned back to the table and looked at my glass sadly. There went my drink. Pony goggled at me, and Dally smirked. I smiled and glanced over at the display stands over by the door.

"So…who wants a Kool?"

****

We eventually got ourselves to the Double- Dally and I several packs of cigarettes richer. We made our way over the back fence and showed ourselves to some seats by the concession stand. They were mostly empty except for a row or two in front of us- two girls were just sitting down as well. Dally gave me a sidelong look before he evidently decided I didn't matter and proceeded to talk loudly and dirtily about girls. I saw Pony's ears turn red, even in the dim light, and rolled my eyes.

Leaning forward, I whispered in the nearest girl's ear. "Ignore him. He thinks he's all that- it'll annoy him more if you pretend you can't hear him." She flinched when she first heard my voice, and stared straight ahead- taking my advice to heart, I guess.

The other girl- the redhead- obviously didn't get the message and after a moment or two whirled around to give Dally a piece of her mind. I didn't need to hear this- I got up and went to join Johnny in getting snacks. We sat down just as Dally went up for his turn in the concessions line. We watched the movie in peaceful silence for a moment or two until Dallas showed up again with Cokes. Marcia- the dark-haired one- took the Coke, but Cherry just stared at it before throwing it in Dally's face. She had good aim, I noticed with a grin at the look on Dally's face.

Dallas glared at me before turning his attention to Cherry and smiling at her- if you could call something that unnerving a smile. I rolled my eyes and started to interrupt but Johnny beat me to it. "Leave her alone, Dally."

I think that was the first time I'd ever seen a hardened hood look that flabbergasted. "Huh?"

Johnny swallowed hard but didn't back down. "You heard me. Leave her alone." Dally glared, his icy eyes flashing, and for a second or two I thought he was going to deck someone. Then he turned and stormed off, pulling a Kool from his pocket as he went. Cherry sighed in relief and smiled at us.

"Thanks. He was scaring me to death," she confided. Johnny and Pony grinned at her, and I rolled my eyes. Just what I needed.

We joined the girls up in front, and I grinned suddenly at what would be going through Two-Bit's head if he joined us- Pony and Johnny at the movies with three girls by their sides. Cherry chatted up the boys while I settled back in my new seat, sipped my Coke, and watched the movie.

Marcia leaned over and spoke without looking at me. "Thanks- about before. They your friends?"

"No problem- and not really. They let me crash at their place last night and let me tag along today." Marcia looked at me for a second, the movie forgotten- it wasn't that good of a movie anyway, and this conversation would probably get interesting.

"Where you from, then?"

"New York City," I said evenly, wondering if I'd get the same reaction as before. She whistled.

"Cool- I've always wanted to go there, see the sights, go shopping, all that stuff." I snorted.

"I guess- I never did much of that stuff," I said coolly, wondering how long I'd have to make conversation until Two-Bit showed up and distracted everyone enough for me to leave. I didn't think anyone would get into much trouble until later- I'd go find the blue Mustang and see if I could head it off so Pony and Johnny could make their escape.

"Why- oh." Marcia was awful quiet after that, and I left her to her musings while I watched the movie. It failed to keep my attention, so I sat back and listened hard for Two-Bit's footsteps- It was a challenge with all the commotion going around.

I heard footsteps coming up behind us, and leaned backward just enough to catch a glimpse of Two-Bit's jacket before he spoke- it was a stunningly accurate mimic of a Soc. If I hadn't seen him or known what would happen, I'd have probably panicked too.

Instead I just kept my eyes ahead and said, "hullo, Two-Bit." Two-Bit grinned at me and swung over the seat, landing neatly next to me.

"Michaels!" he said cheerily, before looking over me to Marcia. "Who's this, another one of your buddies?" He asked me.

"No, I-" I started out before Cherry cut in.

"We're her...associates." she said smoothly. I raised an eyebrow, as did Two-Bit.

"I'll let them do the talking for me," I said, before standing and stepping neatly past Two-Bit. "Excuse me gentlemen, ladies, Two-Bit." Johnny's mouth twitched, although his face was still pale from Two-Bit's entrance.

Two-Bit took over my seat and reached toward my Coke, but I snatched it before he could get his hands on it. He grinned and shook his head before turning his attention to the two girls. "So really- who are you, their great-aunts?" He asked, gesturing at the boys. I disappeared into the night before I could hear their response- too bad, they were both sharp. It would've been fun to stick around.

I wandered aimlessly- I had nothing to do, nowhere to go, and I was thinking more and more that it was a stupid idea to leave New York, the book was probably just a coincidence, Tulsa was too hot, even at night, and I missed my friends. I wanted to go home- I'd get the next train headed East, I decided.

I eventually retraced what I thought was the way to the train station, and found myself hopelessly lost- altogether not much of an improvement from before. I kept putting one foot in front of the other until I found myself in front of a shabby little house with music blasting from every window. I wrinkled my nose- country. Ew.

A figure appeared in the doorway, and obviously saw me, because they shouted and waved. "Come on!" I shrugged. I had nothing better to do, and I obviously wasn't getting home tonight.

I followed the stranger in and found myself being yanked through the crowd.

"Newcomers are in!" someone yelled, and shoved me through a door. "And the timer starts...now!" The door slammed shut, and I decided that I probably should've stayed at the drive-in.

"Wha-?" Yep, that was me, always able to stay cool under pressure. I took in my surroundings. A closet. A dark closet. Oh, great.

I heard somebody rustling around, and then another voice. "God- I hate this game." I recognized that voice.

And then it all clicked. This was Seven Minutes in Heaven. Oh god. I was locked in a closet with Dallas Winston.

"Well...this is awkward," I muttered under my breath. "Nice to see you again, Dallas. Or hear you, rather." I felt him step closer, and I backed up.

"Who-?"

"I'll give you three guesses," I said, my snarky mood from this morning suddenly returning. I could hear my heart beating furiously as I considered my options. One, I stand here and make small talk until I can escape. Two, I break down the door and face a mob of people who probably wouldn't appreciate a broken door. Great options.

I could almost hear the wheels in Dally's head spinning. "Hmm." He took a step closer, and I grappled madly for my blade.

"No funny stuff- I'll leave a nice little scar in a not-so-nice place." I said sharply. He stopped, and I held up my blade, flicking it open carefully. "Ta-Da."

"Wha-?" Dally needed to brush up on his vocabulary, I decided.

"I think we've already covered 'what' and 'who'," I informed him. "Let me know if you want me to go over them again. I'll use little words." Boy, was I asking to get decked. Maybe they had put something in my Coke.

I heard Dally snort, and then he finally said something intelligent. "Keep talking- maybe I'll recognize your voice."

"Oh, so we're playing detective now, aren't we?" I asked sarcastically, and took a step away from the wall. He didn't back up- we were only inches away. Yes, it was quite amazing that he couldn't hear my heart racing. I told it to shut up. It didn't listen.

"Would you like me to compose a limerick for your pleasure?" I asked sweetly, loading every word as full as I could with annoyance. "Or how about I just talk about New York, as everyone seems to want to hear about it lately." I heard his sharp intake of breath, and knew I'd hit on something.

"I-I- got it. You're that broad Pony dragged in the other day." I scowled- way to change the subject.

"Don't call me a broad."

"So it is you."

"I never said that."

"You implied it." He was good at this, I decided with an internal sigh.

"You could be interpreting this whole conversation all wrong. I might just not appreciate being called a broad. Did you ever think of that, Mr. Winston?" I said, struggling to keep my voice pleasant.

"That's not fair- how did you-" he chuckled suddenly. It was a nice sound- it didn't go with what I'd seen of him so far. "You're good."

"Why thank you," I said, smiling despite myself. "You're not too bad at this yourself. So let's say I was 'the broad that Pony dragged in the other day'. That's not a name- it's a title."

I could hear his short breaths as he attempted to remember and failed. "I-" I smirked.

"It's on the tip of your tongue, isn't it." I murmured, sheathing my blade. We were almost out of time.

"Sure." He reached out blindly into the darkness, his hand reaching somewhere toward my shoulder. I stepped neatly to the side and took a step closer, a strange tingly feeling like adrenaline running through me.

"Well- you've still got your three guesses." I said, hearing the timer bing outside. Without another word, I opened the door and walked out confidently, Dallas only a few beats behind me.

"Got it- you're that Michaels chick." I nodded without looking back and made my way over to where I knew the drinks would be. I hated being in dark enclosed spaces- they were enough to throw me even under the best circumstances. I was surprised I held myself together the way I did.

I grabbed a shot and took a long swig before I felt my nerves steady enough to face him. "Excellent conclusion." His mouth twitched.

"So you're from New York." I rolled my eyes- and here I thought that I was going to escape this conversation.

"Yes, I'm from New York, yes, I've heard of you, yes, I'm in a gang- we've got the peace necklaces. Any other questions?" I rattled off, digging my necklace out from where it had settled under my shirt. Dally stared at for a long moment, eyebrows going up. When I had had quite enough of him staring at my chest, I grabbed another drink and found a seat on the nearest available couch.

Dally followed me, after grabbing a drink of his own. He sat down on the arm of the couch and stared at me for a long while. I finished my drink and glared at him irritably. "Can I _help _you?" He grinned.

"So- what's the latest deal with the Kings?" _This _was a topic I didn't mind discussing. We swapped stories for a long while- I was careful only to mention a few people by name, mostly just referring to gang names. We found out we had both fought against the same ugly guy in the Tigers- Dally had given him the scar that traveled diagonally down his arm. We had both spent some time with the same group of people- probably not at the same time, though. The whole time it felt like there were pieces appearing to me- all part of this big puzzle that I hadn't figured out. Dally was more than he seemed, I decided.

A lull in the music coincided with the chiming of the hour. I looked at the wall sleepily and then suddenly I was wide awake, because it was one-thirty and Johnny and Pony were asleep in the lot.

I glanced at my watch, hoping that the clock was wrong, that it had stopped or was just fast- but no.

I swore loudly and bolted off the couch, swaying only slightly when I did- just one drink had turned into several. Dally looked at me sharply.

"What?"

"I gotta go. Something's wrong." I didn't give him a chance to process this, weaving through the crowd and bolting out the door. Once out on the street I paused. What to do?

I could make my way to the Curtis house- I knew the general direction, it shouldn't be too far. If I wasn't too late, I could get to the park and wake up the boys before it was too late. Or maybe it was best just to try to head off the Mustang and have done with it. What to do?

_" When I get stuck sometimes, I need help deciding what to do, I close my eyes and- spin."_ Two-Bit's embarrassed grin floated to the top of my memory, and right now this was the best option I had. I closed my eyes, twisted my body, and jumped, feeling only a little stupid.

I opened my eyes, took in my surroundings, and took off, melting into the night.

**So here's the deal- I'm gonna let y'all have a little say in what's going to happen next. Which direction did Erica go? I'm willing to go whichever you guys vote for…**

**Next chapter will cover up until Pony and Johnny get on the train in the book- and it might even come out soon! **

**Reviews are love, and love makes the world go round… or is that money?**

**Cocoa =D**

**P.S. Question of the day- who's seen Ferris Bueller's Day Off?? I'm watching it as I write this- best movie EVER.**


	5. The Killing

**Look! It's a chapter! And it didn't actually take forever! Smiles! :)**

**Disclaimer: I fail at fight scenes. So…yeah.**

**All recognizable quotes belong to S.E. Hinton- not me.**

I took off, heading East as fast as I could. That's irony for you- I was headed toward home after all.

I could still hear country music blaring almost two blocks away, guitar twanging and the low rumble of words whispering between the dark houses. After another block there was only silence- no wind, no sound, just my feet slapping the pavement and my heart pounding and my breath ripping from my lungs with every second.

I stumbled once, twice on my ankle, still sore from yesterday. I tipped forward, smacked the ground with my palms, pushed up, and kept running, nearly slamming into the side of a house when I missed a corner. What little attention wasn't focused on avoiding running into anything and/or killing myself was focused on locating the car. I came to a four-way intersection, tried to reorient myself, failed, took a breath, tried to stop my head from spinning. One breath, two. It was pitch dark out- there were hardly any streetlights here- and there was still that terrible silence that pressed in on me, suffocating me, and I cursed myself for the tenth time for listening to that stupid note and walking straight into all this trouble.

I closed my eyes, swayed, took a breath, and hurtled to the side, sprinting in what I hoped was the roundabout way to the park. I could've just stayed at the movies with Johnny and Two-Bit and Pony, I told myself, leaping over an unidentifiable lump and racing down the street. Pony and Two-Bit would have acted like love-struck fools, but Johnny and I could've talked. The movie wasn't so bad- and the company would've been nice.

But no, I had to go wander the streets, get locked in a closet with the toughest hood in town, and get sloshed before chasing down Socs and trying to stop a murder. Really, how stupid was I?

I was so busy berating myself that I almost didn't hear the voices at first. Almost. I skidded to a stop, and found my target just down the street, not facing me. I skidded, tripped, stumbled, swore, and reached for my blade. The car stopped, and two heads poked out of the car, necks craning back in my direction. I was far enough away that they could only just make out my figure, one thing that was working in my favor tonight.

The whole implications of my half-thought out plan finally sunk in as I stared like an idiot while the Socs considered what to do next. I was standing here, with maybe two blades on me, reflexes more than a little off from the drinks earlier, and no idea about the layout of town. The park was on the other side of the car, which was where Pony and Johnny probably were. Standing in my way? Five smashed Socs, each one capable of taking me down if I wasn't careful.

Well. I was screwed.

My mind raced for a moment or two, before I decided to screw it all and just go on instinct. It wasn't like this situation could possibly get any worse, could it? Oh wait- I closed my eyes and wished on whatever was up there that I hadn't just jinxed myself. Then I opened my eyes, whipped out my switch, and charged at the car.

They obviously weren't expecting their target to run straight at them- I breezed right past the car, my fist swinging right into the nearest guy's head as I shot by. In the split second that the rearview mirror was in my sight, I saw his head swing up and snap against the roof of the car. It was more than a little satisfying, and I grinned.

I made it past the mirror, just as the front door of the car exploded open and the driver got out staring at me before shaking himself and saying something I won't repeat here- this doesn't need to get too graphic, now does it?

I didn't look back- I just had to get out of range, while staying in sight. If I had any luck at all I would be able to draw their attention, giving Pony and Johnny a chance to get back to the Curtis house. They wouldn't even know how close they came to danger.

I heard squealing wheels behind me and swore under my breath. I came to an intersection and chose without thinking, feet pounding. They were gaining on me- I was fast, but I couldn't outrun a car, not when there was no traffic and no cops to holler at the first idiot who blew a red light.

I abandoned the idea of leading anybody away from anything and focused on getting away before I got caught and pummeled- or worse. The car was only a dozen feet behind me- they were going to hit me, I realized with a sickening lurch in my stomach. I was starting to slow- I could feel it. An adrenaline rush could only last for so long, and I was starting to feel the effects of my race across town. I had to have run a few miles just in the past half hour- although there was really no way of judging, what with all the twists and turns that came in the city.

I saw a tiny crack between buildings, and darted into the alley, recognizing it as the one I had been staking out when I first got to Tulsa. That meant I was right by the park. If I had looked I would've seen it coming. And here I thought I'd done a good job staying away from the area. Oh well- there was no time to think now.

I sprinted forward and slammed into a solid brick wall. I glanced from side to side- no other alleys connected. I turned and looked up, searching for stairs, a window, a ledge- anything. Nothing. Oh, was I screwed.

The car screeched to a halt outside the alley, cutting off my only other way of escape. Three Socs climbed out, the driver staying near the car- to catch me if I tried to escape, I guessed. The guy I had hit already looked like had a bruise on his jaw- I would have smiled, had I not been staring at my own death.

They weren't much for conversation- the first one just tackled me. I dodged, although not as nimbly as I had yesterday- was it really only yesterday? I had really bad luck here in Tulsa- this was two more fights than I had been in back in New York last week; we had been going through a relatively peaceful time in New York, it figured that I'd go soft. Great. Just great.

I shut my brain off as I ducked, weaved, and threw in a punch or two whenever I could. It didn't stay off, and a huge part of me was panicking. There was no way I was going to last against these guys long- they were stronger than I was, bigger, a heck of a lot more drunk, and intoxication gives you power. It makes you cockier. These guys weren't going to stop, even if I tried to get them to listen. It looked like I was pretty much out of options.

I edged my way closer to the car- at least I wouldn't have anyone fighting by my back- and kept a wary eye on the driver of the car. He was edging closer to me, a hand slipping down to his knife. His eyes raked up and down my body, and I thought I was going to be sick. I had encountered creepers back home, but never anything this creepy. He had a girlfriend, I reminded myself, swallowing hard. A girlfriend who somehow loved him and cared for him and didn't want him to be stupid and drunk like he was now. A girlfriend that I had talked to tonight, someone that I didn't mind too much- it really was sad that they allowed people like him to buy alcohol.

I worked my mouth for a second, trying to get my dry mouth to work. I glared fiercely at the other three, who had formed a rough circle around me, and spat at the ground in from of their feet.

I took a deep breath, filling my aching lungs as full as they could go, looked the boys in the eye, and screamed my heart out. "Help me! Somebody, anybody! I need help! Somebody help me!" I dropped to my knees, just missing the punch that had been thrown toward my neck to shut me up. I kicked out hard, still screaming. Nothing. But then, what was I thinking? No one cared enough to help a sweet innocent girl back home- and who would possibly be out in this stupid little town at two am to help me out. Except for- well, drat.

"Ponyboy! Johnny! Someone help me!" I really, really didn't want to drag these two into it, but right now I was having more than a little difficulty holding off the Socs. I've heard it said that one on one fighting is fine and two is acceptable. Three is something to watch out for, but four? Four is unacceptable, no matter what the case. So much for the rules of brawling.

I tried to keep my back to the car, but when the person still in the car managed to get in a few good kicks, I started to edge my way along the alley wall, still screaming when I wasn't gasping for air. No luck- yet. I was running out of time- I was starting to feel where I had gotten hit, the adrenaline rush wearing off. If this didn't end soon I was going to be in more trouble than I already was.

My back hit the corner, and now I was trapped, more so than I had been before. I swore heavily and took stock of my situation. Well- at least no one would come at me from behind anymore. On the other hand, any source of light nearby had gone out- the streetlight turning off in a cruel stroke of fate- the three Socs were still coming at me, the fourth was hopping out of the car, and the alleyway was suddenly looking very, very small.

Now was _not_ the time to get claustrophobic, I reminded myself as I took in a shaky breath. I closed my eyes for a split second to clear my head, and then I heard footsteps. My eyes opened wide and I looked up to find Bob's knife at my throat.

There was no sound, except for the harsh breathing of the four boys. I stepped back, pressing myself against the wall. The knife followed me, and Bob grinned.

"Not so tough are you, huh," he said, leering at me. The knife pressed ever closer, and I chose not to answer. It suddenly occurred to me that he could kill me- right now, if he wanted- and no one would know.

My life was probably going to end in a matter of seconds, and -unbelievably- the only thing running through my head was that Taffy was going to be _so _pissed that I had broken my promise and left her behind. I didn't even get the whole 'life-flashes-before-your-eyes' experience that everyone always talks about.

I heard quiet voices in the background, but they were so far away right now. I could barely feel the prick of the blade on my neck, because I was fading fast and my ears were ringing and the only thing I could see was Bob's terrifying stare leering at me.

"I think I'll have a little fun with you, first- Cherry'll never know, right boys?" He asked cheerily, turning to get confirmation.

Pony's left hook intercepted his look and sent him crashing toward me, blade still hovering dangerously close to my neck. I crouched and kicked him hard where it counted, and he crashed into the opposite corner with a moan. I felt strong hands pulling me up, and I fought wildly for a second before realizing that this person was on my side.

"Let's get out of here," I said, taking off toward the end of the alley, where the car was still parked. I narrowed my eyes, judging the distance automatically, and hopped up onto the back end of the car, propelling myself off the trunk and racing toward the park.

I could hear shouts from at least two different Socs racing after us- probably three, leaving only one behind. That evened out our odds slightly- Bob looked like he had been out for the count, but he had proven to be a tough little jerk.

Johnny was standing just outside the car, and I didn't hesitate before heading straight into the park, the boys close behind me.

"What do they want?" Pony asked, nursing his left hand as he ran.

"Blood," I said briefly as I scrabbled for my few remaining blades- I was running out fast. "They're not going to stop until someone gets hurt." I glanced back and nearly smashed into Johnny, who had stopped right in front of me. He was deathly pale, sweat shining on his face.

"We can't- they're gonna-" He stopped, swore, wiped his hands on his jeans. I glanced back- they were already starting to make their way over. We didn't have time anymore- it was time to run or to make a stand.

"Johnny." He didn't look up. "Johnny!" I put a hand on his shoulder, and he started backward. "We gotta get out of here."

"Too late," Pony called, taking a step or two back. His fist unclenched, automatically searching for a weapon. When his hand closed around the blade I had pressed into his hand, he started, looking from me to the blade to the Socs that were coming up fast and I saw comprehension dawn. "Do you think we could make a run for it?"

"You guys have to get out of here- it's me they want." There was no way I was going to make these two go through this whole thing- their lives were rough enough, and they didn't need this. I wasn't normally one for the noble self-sacrificing, but at the moment my stock of brilliant ideas was running low.

"No." Johnny's voice was surprisingly steady, even though he was shaking like a leaf. His hand edged slowly down toward his pocket- his switchblade. Everything was moving so fast, yet it was like slow motion. Nothing made sense. "No- it's too late to run, s'like Pony said." He swallowed hard, trying to stop himself from going and all-out panicking. I clapped him on the shoulder.

"Good man," I told him. I dropped my voice, just a bit, so Pony couldn't hear. "Listen- you've gotta stay tuff. We'll get outta this if we do." I put my hand on his shoulder, lingering for only a second or two before turning to Pony. He looked at me with a surprising calm on his face.

"I saved your life, you saved mine, we're square," I told him. His mouth twitched upward, and he nodded. We backed up and fanned out, waiting in silence for the Socs to make their stand.

We traded insults for a few minutes- I don't remember, and it doesn't matter any way you look at it. I was too busy running plans in my head, any hare-brained scheme that could get us out of this mess. I was so busy wracking my brain that it took me too long to realize that the Socs were making their move, and two of them had already grabbed Pony.

I went wild, some flare of energy coming from nowhere and sending me toward the scuffle. These two had gotten their strength back, and were hell-bent on their task, holding Pony under as his thrashing grew weaker. I could see his face, distorted under the water. His eyes were bulging, lips turning blue as his oxygen ran out.

I punched the nearest Soc hard, and he knocked me aside. I fell, caught off balance, and hit the edge of the fountain. I saw stars, and more importantly, I saw Pony's blade. He must have dropped it when they grabbed him, a dim part of my mind realized over the fuzziness that echoed from the side of my head. I grabbed it, aimed hazily, and threw the knife forward, the point digging into the Soc's arm.

The howl of pain rang in my head as he turned toward me, and then the sound choked off abruptly as another knife found itself imbedded in his chest. He fell slowly, crumpling inward. I turned my head and found Johnny standing just beside me. He didn't look at me, his gaze locked on the remaining Socs. I sat up slowly, a hand to my head in a stupid attempt to keep my brain from falling out. It came away sticky with blood that faded into the water as I pulled Pony out slowly.

He coughed, choking on water as I sat him up. "You okay, Johnny?" I asked slowly, splashing my face with water to clear my head. I cleaned off my knife in the fountain and watched as the blood mixed with the water and faded away, leaving no sign of the near drowning that had just taken place.

"J-Johnny." Pony's voice was weak and trembling, but he looked better already. "That Soc- you killed him, Johnny." His voice was getting higher in his panic, I noted.

"I killed him," Johnny said in that quiet steady voice that people sometimes get when they haven't quite figured out what they've done. "I killed that boy." His hands were shaking, eyes wide, but his voice stayed cool and steady- he was tough, there was no mistaking that.

Pony turned, retching. I put a hand on his back awkwardly, steadying him. He wiped his mouth and looked at me in the dark. I pulled myself up, not looking at the body curled at my feet. Pony leaned back and closed his eyes.

"They were drowning you, Ponyboy. They might've killed you. They had blades…they were gonna beat me up…" his voice was still remarkably steady, but I could feel it. He was going to lose it soon, or Pony.

"What're we going to do? They put you in the electric chair for killing people, Johnny!" Pony suddenly hollered. I clapped a hand over his mouth automatically.

"Calm down, Pony." I said, mostly on autopilot. I waited for a moment before taking my hand away.

"Ok- I'm okay now," he said, taking a long shuddering breath.

"The police'll be here soon," I said, helping Pony up. "We gotta get out of here." I told Johnny. "They'll kill you guys- I'm not gonna let that happen.

"We need money. Maybe a gun. And a plan." Johnny said, still not looking at the body. He looked as tough as anyone I'd ever seen- you could hardly notice that his hands were still shaking.

"Right. Where to, then?" I said, willing my head to stop aching.

"Dally," Johnny said just as I put the pieces together. "Dally'll know what to do." I could see Pony nodding eagerly- of course. Dallas Winston always knew what to do, I thought, just barely managing to keep from rolling my eyes.

"So, back to Buck's, then," I said, setting off into the direction I had come, which seemed only a little bit annoying to me. We walked mostly in silence- which meant that I heard the country music from two blocks away. They had turned it down a little bit.

The little bit of bass thumped in time with my headache as Johnny rapped on the door. Buck answered it, glaring at us. He glanced in my direction, recognized me, and grinned wolfishly.

"You're that chick that was hanging 'round Dally. You his new broad or something?" I was too tired to even make my usual retort to that kind of comment.

"Just…go find Dally. Tell him that it's Johnny and Pony. He'll come." Johnny said steadily, meeting Buck's eyes. Buck glared at him for a minute before giving in and letting us through the crowd.

Dally appeared a moment later, clad only in a pair of jeans as he stretched, wincing in pain. "What's up?"

I found myself another drink while Pony and Johnny filled Dallas in. I rejoined them just as he led them into a back room. He tossed them all manner of things before glancing at me. "And what's your part in this?"

"We found her in the alley across the street- they had her cornered. She gave 'em some damage, but it wasn't enough to stop them." Pony said- evidentially he had gotten his voice back. Dally grunted and looked me over.

"'M fine," I said tiredly, slumping against the wall. He snorted.

"No you're not. They cut you up?" I shook my head.

"Not too bad. I'll be fine- we gotta get out of here." Dally looked me over again, his gaze lingering in some spots in a way that would make a more proper girl blush. I just stood there, too wiped to make my usual snide comment. He reached over and took my cup out of my hands.

"I'll take that-" it was out of my hands and slammed down in one motion. I glared half-heartedly. "Pony, are you - Jesus, kid. You'll die of pneumonia 'fore the cops even get to you." He threw a towel at Pony and disappeared out the door, probably to get some stuff for us. Johnny sat back on the bed but Pony sat stiffly at the end, shaking. I sat down, back on the wall, staring at the ceiling and listening to the blare of the music. It had finally quieted down some- although not enough to make my headache go away.

Dally reappeared with some money, a gun, and a sweatshirt for Pony. He tossed the gun to Johnny and the money to Pony before glancing at me once more.

"So what're you gonna do?" I sighed heavily, thinking through my answer slowly.

"It's as much my fault as Johnny's that the guy's dead. S'pose I'd get in trouble if I stayed here. I'll go with them and wait until I can get back home." He frowned, shaking his head before switching topics.

"Pony, do Darry and Sodapop know about this?" Pony shook his head and Dallas sighed. "I ain't itchin' to be the one to tell Darry and get my head busted."

"Then don't tell him," He said. Dally snorted and threw the sweatshirt to Pony. Pony struggled into it- it was about twice his size. He looked like he was drowning in it- oh, bad choice of words.

"There's an old abandoned church on top of Jay Mountain- there's a pump out back so don't worry about water. Buy food, and then stay hidden. I'll be up there as soon as I think it's clear."

"Man, I thought New York was the only place I could get mixed up in a murder rap," I whined quietly, only to hear the same words out of Dally's mouth. I glanced at him in surprise, and he eyed me curiously. Johnny and Pony didn't seem to have heard us- which was probably a lucky break. I saw Johnny shudder at the word 'murder' and bit my lip sympathetically. This was hard enough already- and it was just going to get worse from here.

Dally squinted at me, beat up and exhausted, and shook his head. "You'll freeze out there. Hang on." He disappeared for a second or two, then threw another jacket at me. "Here- now get goin', you three." He walked us to the back door, than tousled Johnny's hair gently. "Take care, kid," he said quietly, pushing us through the door and shutting it behind us.

I pulled the jacket on hastily- it _was_ freezing- and we disappeared into the night, racing toward the station. Johnny threw me the gun, and I caught it instinctively. "I don't know why Dally gave me the gun," he said between breaths. "I couldn't shoot anybody."

We hopped into the boxcar when no one was looking and stretched out carefully. I rested my head against the wall, and Pony's head rested on my shoulder sleepily. Johnny lay on his stomach, peering out the side carefully.

"You okay?" I asked him quietly. He shrugged.

"I keep seeing his face…" he trailed off, his dark eyes refusing to meet mine.

"It'll work itself out in the end," I said half-heartedly. He snorted.

"You ever killed anyone? You ever seen their faces when they figure it out?" He hissed angrily. I stiffened, and he caught the movement. I didn't say anything, and his angry expression melted away.

"Oh."

"It was him or me- I wasn't going to let him kill me." I said quietly. "Kind of like you did tonight. You saved Ponyboy's life, Johnny. Bob was going to drown him, and then he was going to kill me." I hadn't realized it until the words were out of my mouth. "He was going to kill me…"

Johnny looked at me in concern. "You okay?" I nodded tiredly, and he moved to sit on my other side. I closed my eyes, wrinkling my forehead. "You hit your head?" I nodded, the movement making me wince.

"I'll keep watch- Windrixville is gonna be the first stop, anyway." I rested my head on his shoulder sleepily, and Pony's head moved with mine. Johnny took the gun from my hand and placed it by his feet. I didn't mind- there would be no more violence tonight.

I went to sleep in a hoodlum's jacket with my head on a murderer's shoulder.

**For people who wanted this chapter to go another way, feel free to ask and I'll write up the other version I had planned!**

**Yeah...really nothing else to say. Reviews are nice, as always... :)**

**Until next time… **

**Cocoa**


	6. The Church

**Apologies both for the short (and belated) update and for the fact that this will probably be the only update for a month or so. I was going to put this in with the next chapter, but I'm stuck so I figured I might as well put it up.**

**Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns. Although we did borrow the movie last weekend.**

The first thing I noticed waking up was that I was in pain. A lot of it.

The second thing I noticed was that wherever the heck I was, it was moving. The floor was bumping and shaking and it was jostling my head on whatever it was resting on which kind of compounded the headache that was threatening to cause my brain to explode.

The third thing I noticed was that my pillow had just disappeared, and I had better wake up if I didn't want to smash into the floor.

"Wha?" My hands hit the cold metal floor, and I blinked, trying to wake up enough to remember what the heck was going on. Something was on my shoulder. Something moving. I turned to nearly smack heads with the boy who had just been using me for a pillow. He blinked at me blearily.

"Huh?" Funny, I had just asked the same question.

"Ponyboy?" I turned my head sharply in the direction of the other voice, winced, and blinked again. It was dark. This didn't help the whole 'seeing' thing very much.

The boy beside me moaned quietly. "Johnny?" Johnny crouched beside me, picking up a black object near my feet and shaking Ponyboy slightly.

"Come on- we gotta get off. The train's slowing down." It was all coming back to me, infuriatingly slowly, but I was starting to get a hazy idea of what was going on.

"Erica?" I looked up at Johnny and blinked.

"Present. This our stop?"

"Yeah- come on, we gotta jump." We hopped into the dewy grass and sat for a moment in silence as the train whistled by. Ponyboy's head was starting to nod again when Johnny spoke again.

"I don't know where the church is," he admitted.

"Go ask someone," I muttered, poking Ponyboy in the ribs as his head dipped dangerously low.

"I can't- I think you put my legs to sleep," he said, glaring at me half-heartedly. I had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.

"Sorry."

"Ponyboy, you go," Johnny suggested.

"I don't look like a farmboy," he said sleepily. I sighed.

"No one's going to give a girl directions up to Jay Mountain, Ponyboy. You've got to go." Ponyboy sighed and sat up, running a comb through his hair and standing up straighter.

"I guess I look okay, don't I?" Johnny and I scrutinized him for a moment or two.

"You look an awful lot like Sodapop," I said at last.

"Yeah, you do," Johnny agreed. "The way you've got your hair like that and everything. Except your eyes are green." Pony reddened.

"They ain't green, they're grey. And I look about as much like Soda as you do. He's good looking."

"Shoot- you are, too," I said with a cheeky grin. Pony turned and hopped the barb-wire fence without saying another word, but the back of his neck was red as he loped off toward town. Johnny chuckled, watching him go. I watched him rub his legs absently for a moment or two, wincing as the circulation started back up. I sat back, hands behind me, and closed my eyes for a moment, listening to the wind rustling the tall grasses and the thump thump thumping of my head.

"Your head still hurt?" Johnny asked me. I made a grunt of assent and looked at him tiredly. He grinned wearily and glanced down the road. He blinked, and I saw the effort he put in making sure his eyes stayed open.

"I'll let you know when he gets back," I said, shifting so I could see the road. He smiled and his eyes slid shut. His breathing evened out, and I resumed watching him.

I felt bad for him. It wasn't fair that he had to put up with all that crap, just because he was a Greaser. Now, with blood on his hands, he'd probably never get a shot at real life. Not that he had already had a good life. Getting hit by your parents was bound to leave some scars, both physically and mentally.

I liked Johnny, I realized as I watched his chest lift slightly with each slow breath. It might not be obvious, but I have a bit of an overdrive personality. It's not that I'm all soft and sentimental on the inside- please, I grew up in New York. Sarcasm and snappy comebacks have been ingrained into me.

But for the few people that actually bothered to try and get past the over-the-top, more-than-a-little-bit-obnoxious exterior, I was just another kid. Somehow Johnny had wormed his way into my heart- I wasn't quite sure how that had happened. But when I saw the look on his face the moment that Soc had dropped to the ground, I knew that I was going to stick by him until this whole thing was through.

We were kindred souls, in a way. True, I was a little bit more outspoken than him, and he always looked like he was waiting for someone to put him down, but when you got past all that, we really weren't all that different. We had both come from pretty crappy backgrounds, we both didn't have much to look forward to in life, pretty much all we had were our friends.

Funny- he hated it, I couldn't imagine my life any other way.

I looked back toward the road and saw a familiar figure headed our way. I picked up a little rock and tossed it at Johnny gently. It clattered by his face and his eyes flew open, hand tightening around the gun. He looked around wildly for a second before his eyes locked on me. I waved awkwardly, shifting my balance to keep from tipping over. He stared at me for a second, and I could see the events of last night coming back to him.

His shoulders slumped, grip on the gun slacking, and his eyes dulled. He looked up and spotted Ponyboy in the distance. He hopped to his feet, and I picked myself off the ground slowly.

We walked mostly in silence- everyone was half-asleep and too busy going over the events of the past few hours to make any sort of conversation. It took longer than I thought it would to get to the church- the road was steep and by the time we were halfway there it took too much energy to think so we just put one foot in front of the other, over and over again.

We crawled through a back window to get into the church- the glass was all broken out and had mostly been scattered and smoothed over- I was lucky not to get caught squirming through. I managed to get by, and we found ourselves in the old abandoned church. I tossed my pack to the ground, flopped onto a pew, and stared up at the ceiling. Pony and Johnny were immediately asleep, and it was only a moment or two longer before I too drifted off to the dim sounds of the countryside awakening.

*

**Question for the reviews: Does Erica seem Mary-Sueish to you? If so, what can I do to fix that?**

**Cocoa =D**


	7. The First Day

**I've had this half-finished on my computer since…August, maybe? This is a fail. But I'm back into the Outsiders fandom, seeing as my school's spring play features our favorite Greaser boys…so hopefully it won't take a year 'till the next update.**

**Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine.**

I woke up slowly this time, opening my eyes to see the stone floor inches away from my face. I rolled over carefully, staring at the arching ceiling before sighing and sitting up. Light filtered in through the broken windows, glancing against the stained glass and sending little splashes of color throughout the room. Had I been feeling slightly poetic or at least slightly less hungover I would no doubt have had something profound to say. As it was I was perfectly fine squinting as my eyes adjusted to the brightness.

My head didn't hurt quite so much anymore- point for Erica. None of my fingers were broken- one more point. We were all alive- give it another three points. Then I stretched and all my muscles cried out and I added a whole bunch of points to the Socs' score.

After a moment or two of muffled curses, I knelt beside Ponyboy and poked him on the shoulder. He grunted, rolling over and nearly smacking into a pew. I grabbed his ankle and pulled him out from under the bench, and he swatted a hand in my direction half-heartedly, eyes opening halfway.

"Go 'way, Soda," he muttered tiredly. "Be up in a minute." Kid didn't know where he was, I realized belatedly. I sighed- it was far too early to deal with sleepy teenage boys- and got on my hands and knees, peering at him curled up under the pew.

"Ponyboy," I called softly, yanking on his arm once. He sat up with a start, banging his head on the pew and crashing back to the cold floor, swearing loudly. From a few feet away I could hear Johnny groan, and I promptly clapped a hand over Pony's mouth. He glared at me, wrenching my hand away and scrambling out from under the pew.

"What is your problem?" he demanded irritably. I rolled my eyes and held out my hand.

"Just give me the money. I'll run out and get us some food." He stared at me for a second, then something clicked and he sat up, rooting through his pockets for a moment or two before glancing back up at me.

"Johnny has it, doesn't he?"

Oh. Right.

My sheepish expression evidently told Ponyboy all he needed to know, because he rolled his eyes and hopped back on top of the pew, rubbing his forehead ruefully.

"Wake me up when we've got some food," he mumbled, and instantly fell back asleep. I gaped at him for a moment before shaking my head and turning to Johnnycake.

"Johnny?" I whispered, poking his shoulder gingerly. His eyes snapped open, big and dark and wild. We stared at each other for a second, completely frozen, before he wrenched himself away, jackknifing up into a sitting position and turning to face me expectantly.

"Money?" He blinked, nodded, and pulled the small wad of money out of his pocket before yawning and standing up. "Be right back," I said, and he nodded absent-mindedly before disappearing toward what I guessed was the church's bathroom.

It wasn't as far as a walk in the crisp morning air as it was just before dawn. My stomach churned and I kept counting and recounting the money. It was easily the most amount of money that I had ever held at one time, but I wasn't going to tell any of the boys that. They weren't rich, not by any standards, but they had enough. Whatever Dally could spare was going to have to be enough for us.

I wandered through the outskirts of town for only a moment or two before I found the town's general store. It was a nice trick, being able to find the town's general store without really trying. I blamed my life back in NYC. Not to mention the fact that after you nicked food from the same store three times in a row, they would call the cops every time you walked down the block.

The store wasn't anything to remark upon- apparently once you've seen one general store you've seen them all. I picked up a copy of _Gone With the Wind_, a deck of cards, and peroxide, then went to town on the food. I stocked up on cereal and sugary stuff. I didn't even look at the baloney.

I ended up spending a fair amount of the money, and I tucked the leftover back into my pocket carefully, before hefting my bags and beginning the long trek back toward the church, humming to myself and attempting to convince myself that the lone farmer driving by wasn't actually trying to kill me. Paranoia is a bitch.

I walked up toward the church whistling a tune that was probably overly-cheerful and resisting the urge to glance over my shoulder for the forty-third time. I was met with silence, even when I dropped the bags on the front step to get the door.

I hesitated in the entryway, debating calling for them, looking, or just cutting my losses and making a run for it, when I saw Pony's jacket draped over a pew and sighed in relief. "Ponyboy? Johnny? I'm back- 's just me!" As my voice echoed off the rafters, two heads popped up over the alter, and they sprinted down the aisle, stumbling on the stone floor. Johnny caught himself nimbly on the back of a pew. Pony wasn't quite so lucky and crashed the ground in front of me. I blinked at him. Johnny glanced from him to me and back to Pony, who was lying on his stomach with his elbows propping him up, and shook his head, a grin spreading across his face.

"I swear, Pony, you're getting more like Two-Bit every day," he said, peering out the door to glance at the bags left on the steps. Pony attempted unsuccessfully to raise an eyebrow, and I rolled my eyes and held out a hand to help him up, unable to hide the smile on my face.

I ruffled his hair as I pulled him to his feet, and he made a face and smoothed it back into place, before pushing past me to join Johnny on the front steps. They each carried in a bag and took stock carefully, spreading out their items and commenting mildly on what they had found.

Ponyboy's bag ended up having the peroxide. He held it up toward me. "What's this for? You- oh no. Erica, we can't-" his face paled as he stared from the peroxide to me, to Johnny, and back to me. He gave the peroxide a shake to emphasize his point, which at the moment wasn't quite clear to me. "Rica- my _hair_," he pleaded, a hand going up to his locks protectively. I held back a snort and glanced at Johnny, who held up his hands.

"It wouldn't look right on me," he said defensively, and I conceded the point reluctantly. "Pony, you want me to do it?" Ponyboy eyed me warily, glanced at Johnny, and sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Whatever," he mumbled into his hands. I glanced at Johnny, who shrugged.

"Go get the grease out of your hair. I'll take care of him," I suggested. He ran a hand through his hair, sighed forlornly, and disappeared, fingering his hair regretfully. I blew a piece of hair out of my face, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. Boys and their hair.

"I won't take that much off," I promised Pony as I sat him down on the pew and took out my switch. I had lost count of how many I had lost in the past few days. My best blade would be at the bottom of my backpack, next to the Book, and I had the one in my hand. That was two out of- six, maybe? It was almost pathetic, a word that also aptly described the look on Pony's face, with his eyes closed tight, as to wish this whole mess away.

I patted his shoulder awkwardly and went to work on his hair slowly, doing my best to keep him from looking like a pansy. If my attempts weren't entirely successful, at least I could say I had tried.

Most of the hair ended up coming out, and I sent him out to rinse the remaining grease from his hair before I bleached it. I glanced toward the mirror, catching a glimpse of Pony's retreating back as I did. My braid reached halfway down my back, and was pretty much my only vanity.

It needed to go.

I held it up gingerly, hefting it in my palm thoughtfully. Maybe I didn't need to cut it _all_ off…

I heard Pony swear loudly at the cold water and sighed. It wasn't fair to put him through all this and not do something in return. Nope. It had to be done.

I switched open the blade and dragged it across the braid slowly.

"It's never gonna cut like that," a voice behind me informed me. I whirled around, nearly smacking myself with my braid as I tried not to impale myself on the blade. Johnny walked in, hair still dripping wet, and I slumped in relief as he gave me a wry smile.

"Here," he said, prying the knife gently from my hand and undoing the braid. My screech of protest made his mouth twitch, and as he pulled out his comb, he set to work on my hair. "The blade won't cut through a braid- too thick. You're gonna have to cut it across." I sighed and folded my arms to keep them from snatching my hair away from Johnny's careful fingers.

He worked in silence, fingers working nimbly. In the distance I could hear Pony's muffled squawks from the cold water splashing against his neck.

It was almost peaceful. I watched him in the mirror, picking his way through my hair carefully, and found myself breaking the quiet. "You okay?" His hand jerked, ripping through a tangle.

"Guess so," he replied after a moment, flipping open the blade carefully. He hesitated, glancing at the length of hair uncertainly, and I sighed.

"Just cut it all off. It'll grow back eventually," I told him reluctantly. He shot me a brief smile and lowered the knife toward my hair once more. He carefully began to cut off everything below my chin, and I tried to pretend that he wasn't holding the knife perilously close to my neck.

"'Guess so' isn't much of an answer, by the way," I added after a moment. I felt him freeze behind me, felt the blade in his hand twitch once before he resumed his work.

"Rica…" he sighed as another clump of hair fell to the ground. "He was gonna kill me." It was a flat statement, something that couldn't be disputed.

"I know."

"He was gonna kill you an' Ponyboy too."

"Yeah," I agreed with a remarkable amount of indifference.

"I don't…"

"Don't what?" I turned as the last chunk of hair landed on my shoulder and gently took the switch. He didn't look at me. I put two fingers on his shoulder and he spooked, jumping back a foot and nearly slamming into the opposite wall. "Johnny-"

"I didn't mean to kill him!" He burst out, with his head down and fists clenched. He looked up at me once, eyes wide. "I didn't want to, I just didn't want him to hurt me. I was scared. I don't want to hurt people- I just want everyone to leave me be." His voice broke on the last sentence, and my resolve withered away just like that.

It might be a weird thing that I'm a hugger, considering the way I grew up, but I am. I don't like it when people feel bad, even though I'm realistic enough to know it happens more often than not. I'm not stupid enough to leap into the arms of any random Joe who looks my way, but I'd never turn down someone who needed a bit of a pick-me-up.

I pulled Johnny into a hug like I had done for nearly every one of my friends before. He struggled for a moment, but I was strong enough to hold my own and there wasn't much fight left in him. I kept him close for a minute, trying to find the words for what was going through my head, before I stepped away and forced him to meet my eyes.

"You are not a bad person," I told him firmly. "This is not your fault. You couldn't have stopped them, and they probably would have killed the three of us just because they were drunk." I glanced toward the door- no sign of Ponyboy. I lowered my voice and continued quietly, sincerely. "You saved my life, Johnny." He shook his head fiercely.

"But I still-"

"But nothing," I told him harshly. He flinched, and I continued, more gently. "Listen to me, Johnny. You are a _good person_. If you let yourself think different, then _they win_, can't you see that? I know it's hard-" I ruthlessly shoved away the part of my mind that was screaming that things were _too_ hard- Johnny hadn't done anything to deserve this, he was just a kid, we were all _just kids_- "but you _can't_ give in, Johnny, you _can't_." My voice wavered for a second, shamefully, and I closed my eyes tight against the heat pricking in the corners of my eyes.

I could feel Johnny's eyes on me, watching me uncertainly, and I forced myself to breathe, willed myself to look up and meet his gaze. "You don't deserve this," I told him quietly, waving my hand around to encompass everything I couldn't say. "You don't deserve this- you deserve more. We all deserve better than this. But it's not going to happen, so we've got to make do with what we've got. It's not fair, but if we let ourselves get broken, the only thing that changes is that we make things worse for the people who care."

I saw a flicker in the mirror behind Johnny and whirled to catch Ponyboy retreating guiltily. I didn't ask him how much he had heard- the look on his face told me all I needed to know.

"Come on, Ponyboy," I said with a sigh, leading him out the door to the back. "Let's go make you a blonde." We left Johnny standing frozen in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. Part of me wondered what exactly he was looking for.

In the end Pony's hair ended up looking not-quite-white, somewhere between my color and Dallas Winston's. He still bemoaned the fact that he looked like a pansy, and I half-listened as I tried to get my mind back in order.

My hair was _just_ too short to be pulled back, something that irked me to no end as I endlessly pulled strands away from my face. The afternoon wore on, the three of us sporting new haircuts. Ponyboy and Johnny stuck together, while I lingered at the edge of the conversation.

The sun was just setting when I slipped toward the front of the church, watching the sun set through the stained-glass windows. I sat cross-legged on the floor near a crack in the grass, a warm breeze tousling my shortened hair and blowing it into my face. The country air smelled clean and earthy, something I was still adjusting to- it was so different from the perfume of exhaust and machinery that you never quite escaped in New York.

The country was so much _quieter_, too. Even the boys seemed hushed in the warm air, muted by the crickets chirping and the grass swaying- or maybe it was the fact that there wasn't much to talk about anymore without dredging up conversations none of us wanted to have.

As the sun slipped over the horizon, Johnny and Ponyboy joined me, standing on tiptoe to catch the last rays of sun on their faces. I sat back with a sigh, tipping my head back to watch the light fade.

"Golly," I breathed at last. "That was great." Pony nodded distractedly, nose pressed to the window.

"I wish Two-Bit and the others could be out here with us," he said dreamily. "Out here in the country, I mean… remember, Johnny, like last night? Just last night we were lookin' up at the stars and-"

Johnny hissed, fists clenched at his sides. "Just shut up about last night, ok?" His eyes were squeezed shut. "I killed a kid last night. He couldn't of been much older than seventeen or eighteen."

Pony glanced at me uncertainly, and I looked between him and Johnny. The younger boy stepped toward the older hesitantly and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. I scooted toward the pair and leaned against Johnny's calves in what I hoped seemed reassuring. I watched Pony awkwardly pat Johnny on the shoulder. Johnny's knees bent, collapsing against a pew, head in hands.

"I didn't mean to," he said softly. I rested my head against his knee for a second, and then he was up again, pacing. Ponyboy replaced him on the pew, and we watched him pace. I could feel Pony trembling all over, fighting back his panic.

"What're we gonna do?" He asked. His voice wavered, and he coughed harshly, drawing a hand across his face. Johnny sighed, glancing at Pony reluctantly.

"I never should've brought you along, Pony. You're just a little thirteen-year old kid, and your brothers are gonna-"

"I'm fourteen!" Pony screamed, his voice raw. "I've been fourteen for a month," he continued quietly. I looked up to see him unsuccessfully fighting back tears. I bumped his knee lightly, and he jerked away from me suddenly.

"Why are you even here?" I blinked, and he took that as a sign of encouragement.

"Why are you here? Who _are_ you?" Johnny stopped to look at us incredulously, and an instant later Ponyboy had replaced him as the one pacing.

"I mean, everything was going fine. Then you show up, and all of a sudden the Socs are out for blood. And you just so happen to be there when Johnny and I-" he cut himself off with a glance over at Johnny, whose eyes were growing wide. "I don't get it. Why you? Why us? Everything was fine until you showed up, with all your talk about New York and gangs and everything."

"Pony, I know you're scared, " I started, but he whirled around and cut me off again.

"No! Don't pull any of that. You act like you're all important, and- and-" He was running out of things to say, and we all knew it. Johnny put a hand on his shoulder, and Pony slumped against him. I scooted away as the pair sat down on the pew, and we sat in the growing darkness for a moment or two while I found the words to say.

"I know how bad this looks," I said finally. "I didn't want any of this to happen."

"Not to get into the same argument or anything, but why _are_ you here?" Johnny asked softly.

"I wish I could tell you," I told him. It was the truth. Sort of. "I needed to get out of New York. Just for a while. There were rumors going around that Dallas Winston was somewhere out here. I wanted to see why."

"What's the big deal about Dally, anyway? He's just a hood," Pony said dully.

"He's not just a hood, Pony," Johnny corrected automatically. I looked at him curiously, and he shrugged. "He's better than that." Pony snorted.

"It's complicated," I told them. "I met the Winstons once or twice. They're not great people. Mr. Winston is one of the meanest people I've ever met. Dally used to be better, though. Still a hood, but better."

"What happened?" I hesitated- this really wasn't my story to be telling, and it brought back some really bad memories.

"Dally had people that were important to him," I said carefully. "When they died, he kind of…snapped." I shrugged. "It happens a lot in the city. Just one of those things." I forced myself to sound indifferent.

A hand touched my shoulder. "I'm sorry." It was Pony. I wasn't sure what he was sorry for. Probably a couple of things. I shrugged away his hand.

"Thanks." I stood up slowly and stopped, turning around. "You guys kind of remind me of them. Back in New York. The people that Dally kept around. It's no wonder- everybody needs a family." I yawned. "'Night, boys."

I didn't fall asleep for a long time.

**Up next: Those long days at the church, and maybe the reappearance of a Greaser or two…?**

**Cocoa =D**


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